


at the clap of thunder, the roses bloomed

by puspinterlocke



Category: Naruto
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Anxiety, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Children's deaths, Death, Depression, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Shinobi War, Fix-It, Hashirama is alive, Healing, Infanticide, M/M, Madara is alive, Mentions of past, Mito is a badass, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Past Child Abuse, Period-Typical Sexism, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Shinobi Politics (Naruto), Slow Burn, Team Dynamics, Team Tobirama, Team as Family, Teenage Parents, Touka and Hikaku are a thing, Trauma, War, Yes Izuna is alive too lol, established relationships - Freeform, the kids arent okay, they deserve happiness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28510089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puspinterlocke/pseuds/puspinterlocke
Summary: Kagami thinks, there is a certain amount of intimacy between people who’ve witnessed, in trembling fear, the suffering of someone they mutually love. It creates an unusual bond, and he laments at how death and pain has stitched this village - this entire country - together.He wonders if there will ever come a time when happiness will replace all this anguish, and is scared to think that the two may only ever go hand in hand.-In which, Tobirama Senju survives the battle against the infamous Kinkaku Force and lives through the height of the First Shinobi War.It changes everything, for everyone.
Relationships: Also Past/Implied/Lingering Relationships between, Implied Sarutobi Hiruzen/Biwako, Mitokado Homura/Akimichi Torifu, Mitokado Homura/Utatane Koharu, Sarutobi Hiruzen/Escort Unit, Sarutobi Hiruzen/Shimura Danzou, Sarutobi Hiruzen/Uchiha Kagami, Sarutobi Hiruzen/Utatane Koharu, Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara, Senju Hashirama/Uzumaki Mito, Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Izuna, Senju Touka/Uchiha Hikaku, Uchiha Kagami/Utatane Koharu
Comments: 17
Kudos: 63





	1. He dies

**Author's Note:**

> I originally planned this fic to be Team Tobirama-centric, but found myself yearning to write it alongside the Founders as well.
> 
> This is why I've decided to write the chapters in alternating POVs, shifting between the kids (Team Tobirama) and the adults (Founders) of Konoha.
> 
> Hoping you enjoy this read. Thanks!

**_One_ **

Hiruzen is crying out.

He is crying out as shrill, guttural sounds are tearing through his chest. His chakra flares are so chaotic, it sends Kagami on edge -

Kagami who is fighting the urge to cover his ears. He is struggling to keep it together, to keep himself from going into full shock, because that’s the last thing he wants to happen right now. He can’t pass out and deal with the trauma in his dreams. It will kill all the parts of him that are still, somehow, left alive.

So he focuses on his pale, pale hands. His fingers are splayed out over both of his knees, the nails caked with blackened blood, and he remembers the Kumo nin he’d gutted on the route back to the village. He thinks, nobody can fault him for the sheer brutality of it. He’d been so desperate to run and hide and _live_ at that moment, he’d have done anything just to get away.

He tries to find logic in his actions, thinking this is what Tobirama-sensei would’ve wanted. For him, for them.

(The attempt at justifying the violence hits dead end and Kagami suddenly feels so sick of everything).

Hiruzen flails around in his cot and erratically sits up, his arms swinging forward in what could only be undeniable physical pain. Kagami doesn’t realize how volatile his best friend is when he’s hurt, but then again it’s understandable. The idiot, gods help him, had been bleeding out the entire journey home and didn’t even consider informing any of his teammates. As if pure will power is enough to keep him alive. To keep all that blood, thick and fresh like the youth they wasted fighting this war, from draining his broken body.

Biwako is heaven sent. She is an angel who’s flown down to provide them with a sense of salvation, and her face is a perfect portrait of emotionless expertise. The way she holds Hiruzen is a testimony of perseverance. She’s almost manhandling him despite her petite stature. Yet Kagami can see the strain beneath her eyes, the lines worried against her tired skin.

“Sarutobi-san.” She says to Hiruzen, her voice small yet firm. It falls on deaf ears and she aggressively puts a hand on his chest, slams a gush of emerald green chakra into whatever vital organ that’s been hit. “Sarutobi-san, I – “ She’s cut off as she barely dodges an unintentional punch, the strength of it sending wisps of her hair flying back from her forehead. She grits her teeth and hardens her gaze. “Hiruzen. _Hiruzen, please_.”

But Hiruzen, for the life of him, cannot keep still and some of the medics are wiping away frustrated tears, because they’ve never seen him like this before. His anguished screams are frighteningly foreign, especially when the whole world knows that he is made of fire. A phoenix formed from the ashes of legendary ancestors. A prodigy. A _hero_. Konohagakure’s _fucking best_.

But even Kagami thinks it’s unfair. Hiruzen is just a child. A Sarutobi who is a few weeks shy of nineteen and already weighed down with the pressures of being Sandaime Hokage. Writhing in his sheets, soaked in his mortality. It’s been thirteen hours since Tobirama-sensei passed the title to him, yet he’d spent more than a quarter of that time screaming in pain. So the message is clear, and it’s completely tragic, because unless you’ve sold your soul to the God of Death, you will bleed all the same when a knife is driven through you.

 _Two stab wounds on the right shoulder_ , Kagami’s eyes flicker over Hiruzen’s form. _Three slashes across the torso._

The thought that Hiruzen may actually die from his injuries chokes Kagami for half a second. The anxiety almost tears him apart as he watches the boy fight against the only ones left in the hospital ward who can actually help him. Two Hokages perishing less than a day from each other is a record the village can’t afford to break, at least not in this war.

So Kagami stands and makes his way, stiffly, to the cot. He positions himself behind Hiruzen and puts an arm around his friend’s left shoulder, making careful effort to avoid his wounds. Leaning down, he could smell all the blood and sweat on his dark brown hair, and for a moment, feels a strong desire to cry. The reality of their situation hits him like a storm: that Tobirama-sensei is dead and it makes him feel as if they’re on their own.

Kagami presses his chin on Hiruzen’s shoulder to garner some form of leverage. When he tenses, he rasps in his friend’s ear, “Lie down.” The boy tries to shove him off, but he throws his weight and pulls him back anyway. “You idiot. You _fucking idiot_. I said lie down. _Lie down, for the gods’ sake._ ”

Hiruzen is sobbing at this point, his features contorted in grief. He’s beating himself out of everyone’s grasp, rupturing skin and bone and sending a pungent smell Kagami’s way.

Kagami almost reels from all the blood and tools and medicine. He’s never had the heart for gore, no matter what anybody says about the wrathful nature of Uchihas. He fights the aversion, though, because Hiruzen needs him. He needs all of them. But Torifu’s broken both of his arms and was transferred to another wing. Homura’s fainted from chakra exhaustion and needs someone to pump something into him lest he never wakes up again. Koharu’s beaten so badly, she could hardly breathe from all those broken ribs. And Danzou… Danzou is not alright, not after he’d been found muttering to himself in a busy hallway as his eyes stared heavily on the ground.

And so Kagami is the only one Hiruzen has, for now. They’re one of the closest friends in this wretched, wretched world and he _needs_ him.

The village, in turn, will need Hiruzen. Because the Shodaime won’t live forever, and the people will not allow Madara or Izuna to take the title. Not them, not an Uchiha.

“ _Biwako!_ ” Kagami snarls as he manages to pin Hiruzen down, enough for the other medics to put their hands on his limbs. Biwako, in turn, injects something into the boy’s shoulder and the clear liquid sloshing inside the syringe immediately shrinks at the contact.

Hiruzen quiets in a way akin to rain stopping. His screams gradually decrease, creating a silence that almost deafens the room. Kagami looks at his face and marvels at the manner in which his furrowed eyebrows slowly relax, his mouth parted mid-way, closing in temporary peace. And he looks almost like he’s asleep, if not for all the battleground dirt smudged on his face.

Kagami exhales a shaky breath before taking a step back from the cot. Biwako gives him a single glance, as if she wants to ask him if he’s alright. If there’s something about him that needs fixing, too. But the two of them know that whatever damage has been done to him cannot be healed by a medical ninja’s hands.

So he swallows hard and steels his expression. He’s the only one in his team who can still stand, who can still think and speak. And he nods at the medic, who understands enough of the shinobi way to hold back feeling sorry for him, as he canters out of the area.

He makes sure to draw back the curtains behind him to hide Hiruzen’s vulnerable form from any straying eye. It is his duty, after all, to protect the Sandaime. And maybe Kagami can pretend he’s only doing so because he cares more for Konoha than for the person holding the title, but truth be told he’d burn everything down just to give warmth to the ones he loves.

Kagami would never say that out loud, because it is treason. But it is the truth. After all, he was never the type to lie to himself.

* * *

The images of their escape circle through the forefront of his mind like motion pictures on a soft and sunny day. Springtime on yellow butterflies. Children drench with the brief happiness of a nearby sparkling river. It reminds him of the moving shows Madara used to take him to see, all greyscale and dusted over with splatters of ink. The words inaudible, but every fraction of emotion expressed in visual detail.

Kagami smiles at how he can narrate things over and over with such fine detail.

But then, he remembers dark leaves and rustling footsteps fading into the night, and sometimes he hates himself. He sees the glint of a kunai knife flashing against the shadows, barely missing his right eye as it grazes the skin of his cheek. Homura panting beside him, his stamina going lower and lower by the minute. His teammates’ chakras are pulsing with exhaustion, but none of them can afford stopping right now lest the enemy catches up.

_Fourteen hours ago. The Second Hokage’s Escort Unit, broken in every sense of the word, is running with the single-minded goal of getting back home._

_Of getting back to Konoha._

A shadow rips through Kagami’s vision and he grunts back before fishing out a kunai from his pack. He lands on the balls of his feet far below the trees and meets the shuriken that comes his way. His sharingan spins, casting scarlet and silver streaks across his vision, as he glares at the Kumo nin in front of him.

The man is tall and Kagami supposes he’s someone who’s strayed from his squad, thinking he can take down six tired teenagers. Some of them look even younger than that. But he’s wrong. In truth, he’s extremely unlucky.

Team Tobirama has never been this intent on killing someone just to get away.

Torifu appears from behind the Kumo nin, his bō raised high in the air. He lets out a war cry as he brings it down and Kagami jumps away just in time to save himself from the deadly impact. Smoke rises forth as the earth splits open and for a moment, a portion of hell breaks loose as the enemy emerges with inhuman flexibility. He performs a sequence of hand seals before thrusting his fist up and then –

The sound of a thousand crows screeching. Lightning bursts from the sky as it falls towards Torifu.

Danzou dives in at that moment and tries to deflect the attack with his wind release, but his chakra is too weak to pull it off properly. Kagami knows it’s not powerful enough, but he could only jump in so fast before lightning meets a slice of air, prompting the two nearest Konoha nin to receive part of its damage.

Homura tries to catch Danzou, mainly because he’s the nearest to the boy, and the two collide against a tree. It knocks the air out of them both. Torifu rolls to the ground once, twice, his arms bending back at unnatural angles, before Hiruzen manages to grab his shirt and haul him to a stop.

The Sarutobi coughs up blood from the strain and Kagami thinks, _this is bad_.

All of them have already been hurt from three or four previous battles before Tobirama-sensei ordered them to retreat. They have to finish this quick. They can’t afford to draw any more attention towards themselves and this isn’t going to waste their master’s efforts in giving them a chance at surviving.

The Kumo nin doesn’t give him time to think, though. He disappears again and Kagami sees the technique seconds before it happens. A summoning of a hundred thousand senbons rain towards him and he barely twists swiftly enough to not get pierced on the shoulder. He grits his teeth because it still fucking hurts, and there could be poison -

But that’s the only thing it takes before Hiruzen is creating a wall of mud between Kagami and the enemy. The consistency of it is almost black against the night. It falters just a little bit as its user is driven to his knees with chakra loss and the Kumo nin curses as he flails through clay and muck.

Still, he manages to free one arm with thunderous speed, and throws a kunai at Hiruzen.

Koharu deflects it with a shuriken and takes advantage of the distraction. She spins and Kagami thinks, she’s almost like a dandelion flying through a summer field, before she skips close to the Kumo nin and lodges her kunai into his side, prompting an abrupt growl from the enemy.

It’s messy. Blood sprays all over her face and the enemy is conscious enough to grab her by the hair and throw her savagely against the ground. She gasps from the pain and shoots up her arm to go for his neck, but he pulls her towards him and drives a punch to her front, the sound of her bones breaking sending a sickening rage in Kagami’s heart.

But the damage Koharu’s done gives Kagami a chance to leap for the kill. He side flips above her and plants his foot on the Kumo nin’s face, sending him back against the ground with a force that would’ve killed an ordinary person. He doesn’t give the enemy a chance to stand as he takes his kunai and meets his stomach without holding back.

Within seconds, Kagami’s wrist deep within the Kumo nin’s gut, eliciting a monstrous scream from him. Hiruzen is beside them in an instant, putting a hand against the enemy’s mouth to silence him as he goes further to the brink of his death.

Kagami doesn’t stop. He keeps himself from flinching away and instead, pushes the kunai further inside, almost feeling the enemy’s heart and lungs beating against his skin. He fights the urge to vomit, to cry out like a child as he and Hiruzen lock eyes in the middle of what feels like murder. But they’re all shinobi, and nothing is simple.

When the Kumo nin collapses, they’re all breathing hard. Hiruzen spits on the ground and it comes out with a depressing amount of dark crimson. Torifu is flinching, his arms limp as Homura is supporting his left one while the other hangs on his side. Danzou is still shaken, both with grief and fear. Kagami looks down at Koharu who’s trembling, her face and neck covered in blood, and wraps his arms around her. He buries his face in her hair and lets her hold his hand. As if she can take away the fact that he’d killed someone with such unnecessary violence.

It is Hiruzen who has the sense to snap out of it, mainly because he’s Hokage now.

He’s Hokage and he’s the leader and it’s his job to fucking protect them.

“Let’s go.” He says, and pulls his teammates to their feet. “We have to keep moving.”

If they don’t, someone worse than the Kumo nin would find them – and they just barely made it out of this one without running out of chakra, or losing their minds.

* * *

Kagami is confined to his home in the Uchiha clan compound for two and a half weeks after apparently sustaining a few injuries himself. Aside from the weapons that have pierced his non vital parts, though, everything else is internal. “You must refrain from using your chakra for anything, even if you think it’s mundane.” Biwako tells him as she scribbles through her prescription pads. She doesn’t meet his eyes and he wonders if she’d always been like that, or if she only started doing so ever since she’d healed Hiruzen. “Contrary to what people say, chakra loss _can_ cause permanent damage.”

He purses his lips at that, mainly because there are so many things that can be done much easier with the use of jutsus, and he only ever realizes at that moment how dependent he has become on his status as a shinobi. How, unlike his mother who had always dealt with everything in simplicity (he remembers yellow hair and summer dresses, her kimono embroidered with the petals of golden roses), he has been so aggressive with life. But then again, it is the only way he knows how to live.

When Biwako hands Kagami his prescription slip, she has that certain look on her face. The one he sees, sometimes, on Tobirama-sensei’s whenever he’s working on his experiments and is choosing to ignore his student who’s watching from the infant crack on the door. Devoid of emotion, like the moonless sky as the afternoon fades and the stars are too shy to come out. It is the expression of a person whose heart has left their body, giving way to a godly focus.

Kagami ponders if that’s the universal answer to everything: losing oneself to save a life. And if it is, could he have saved Tobirama-sensei if he’d known this hypothetical solution earlier on?

He finds himself at a loss for a conclusion. “When can I see the others?” He opts to ask instead.

“Soon.” Biwako responds as she leans back on her chair. Her table is stacked with a pile of scrolls and only the gods know what half of those are for.

“Which is?” Kagami tilts his head.

“Which is when all of you are stable enough to walk out of a room without collapsing on the first few steps.” Biwako says. Then, moistening her bottom lip, she follows it up more quietly. “And when the Shodaime-sama permits it.”

Ah.

 _Permit_.

So that means, they’re technically not allowed to see each other, because the First Hokage has deemed it wise to keep them apart. For whatever reason, Kagami has yet to point a mental finger on. “I see that _the_ Hashirama Senju has taken up the title of Shodaime once more.” Before Biwako could chide him for the bite in his tone, he asks, “Where is the Lord Hokage, anyway?”

She frowns and gives an inaudible sigh. “He left the village for some urgent business.”

“Does that business include retrieving the Nidaime’s body?” Kagami says.

Biwako locks eyes with him. “Yes.” Her reply is curt. “Among others.”

 _Including hunting down that bastard Kinkaku, cutting his head off, and mounting it on the gates of Konoha, I hope_. Kagami thinks with such venom, he’s surprised to taste the hatred in his tongue. He swallows it down, though, as he folds his prescription slip and places it in his pocket. “Hiruzen – “

“Is doing well.” Biwako cuts him off. She crosses her arms over her chest and looks down at a specific point on her table. She snorts softly and says, “You can’t really expect anything less from him.”

There is a fondness there that Kagami doesn’t miss and for a second, he smiles just a little bit. He can imagine Hiruzen bursting through their rooms the moment he wakes up, his thunderous voice booming across quiet hallways. The medics would shush him and the elders would smack him for being too rash, but things would be normal even for just a few minutes, a few days, before the mourning process begins and the funeral for Tobirama-sensei makes his status as the new Hokage official.

“At least check up on the others for me from time to time?” Kagami says to Biwako.

She raises her eyebrows at him as if she is shocked at the warmth in his voice. In a way, perhaps she is, and he can understand that, because there are days when Homura would speak and Kagami would think he sounds too monotonous to be human. Torifu’s laughter would sometimes grate with so much force, like sand paper scraping on wood. And Koharu would scheme them through infiltration missions with a calculative coldness that baffles him weeks after they’ve come home.

“Okay.” Biwako nods and maybe her smile is more akin to a thin line than an upward turn of her lips, but it’s enough because he knows she’s a healer by heart. She’ll always take care of them.

Kagami thinks, there is a certain amount of intimacy between people who’ve witnessed, in trembling fear, the suffering of someone they mutually love. It creates an unusual bond, and he laments at how death and pain has stitched this village - this entire country - together. He wonders if there will ever come a time when happiness will replace all this anguish, and is scared to think that the two may only ever go hand in hand.

When he comes home from the hospital, he walks straight to his house without thinking to stop by and report his return to the clan elders. He climbs up to his bed and ignores the way his bandages uncomfortably cling to his healing wounds.

He buries his face in his pillow and lays there for a moment, allowing the time to pass by in mindless ease. Kagami is hyperaware of everything, knows that it’s late in the afternoon and nearing evening. His clansmen would be looking for him soon once news reaches that he’s the first to be discharged from the near death Escort Unit. His cousins would smirk and gloat at that, taking it as proof of the superiority of the Uchiha line, and he would growl at them without thinking because that’s how he is these days. He feels himself getting angrier. Falling further into a rabbit hole, except there’s no magic in the accident.

He closes his eyes for a moment and tells himself he'll only doze off for a few minutes, because he has no desire to waste his days away sleeping while the sun is still up. But by the time he awakens, the sky is already dark and he lets out a half-hearted curse.

The first thing he sees in his blurred out state is the coffee colored photograph of his team on the night stand. They are ten and happy and filled to the brim with excitement. Torifu’s grin almost splits his face in half, while Danzou is too bashful to smile. Kagami is squeezed between them, his eyes wide with confidence. He frowns at it, tells himself he’s no longer that boy. He hasn’t been that boy for a long time.

Behind them stands Touka-sensei – their first master. The raging whirlwind to Tobirama-sensei’s rushing tsunami. She’d been so strong she immediately became one of the choice warriors to accompany the Shodaime when he stepped down from his position in order to travel the world and further establish stability. Last Kagami heard, she’s still stationed somewhere in the Northern part of the Land of Fire.

He remembers how Madara-sama had pushed him towards Tobirama-sensei days after he'd thrown a massive tantrum at losing Touka. Still snot nosed and feisty. The future Nidaime merely raised his eyebrow, shrugged, and told the Uchiha clan head as well as his brother that he could still handle a few more measly brats. And then Hiruzen had leapt up from behind him and tackled Kagami to the ground, laughing in joy of having new friends.

Kagami looks at the photo of the six of them, dubbed as the Escort Unit the moment Homura finally became a Jounin. It is an uncommon feat at fourteen, and a slap to Konoha’s face somehow because for all of the First Hokage and Madara-sama’s efforts to keep children out of the battlefield, they had failed to shackle him and his friends from entering combat.

In a way, they are not green children. Kagami himself was conceived during the warring clans era and was five when Konoha was built. He was a natural fighter, just like Hiruzen. So, his absence from the grounds would have been deemed unwise. And the moment he reached eight, well – the war council saw no reason to delay him from graduating.

All his life, he’d only seen two years of peace. That summer so fleeting, it almost seems unreal. But now, there is war. And war means, if you are capable of being shinobi, then it’s your duty to enlist. Because not enlisting means leaving the burden to civilians who are more ill-equipped than you, and that’s almost the same as murder.

The pressure sends a crushing weight on Kagami’s back and he rakes his fingers through his hair. He pulls at the strands and grits his teeth as he grunts over and over again, the sheer act of it doing little to alleviate the aching pit in his stomach. So he decides to rise, chancing a look out the window before –

Before he sees Madara-sama walking out into the night dressed in… what is _not_ his usual attire. Kagami frowns, sweeping his gaze over his uncle’s dark blue shirt and braided hair. He almost looks like a civilian when he’s like that. He’s not even wearing anything with the embroidered symbol of the Uchiha clan.

Madara-sama stops and seems to wait for someone beneath Kagami’s house. For a moment, he wonders if his uncle is pondering whether or not to knock on his door, but then Izuna emerges from somewhere around the corner. They talk for a moment, their body language languid enough to be deemed normal, but any shinobi who’s ever hidden anything would be suspicious.

It’s not every day the brothers take to speaking outside of their homes, dressed especially like they’re not Uchiha clan members.

And then they disappear, and Kagami says a hollowed, “Fuck.” as he activates his Sharingan, catching wisps of their chakras floating through the night. He puts on his sandals and, against better fucking judgement, creeps out of his house to follow them.

He knows it’s not wise, but curiosity gets the better of him. So he expands his senses and mentally pinpoints the traces of their chakras with both his dojutsu and the technique Tobirama-sensei had taught him. “Think of it as a thread.” He’d once said as Kagami laced his fingers together, almost as if his hands are those of long lost lovers finally reunited after an eternity. “Everyone has a unique line chained to their bodies. You only need to put a pin down on it and follow the path towards the end.”

Kagami does just that. He picks up south of his location the bright red silks of Madara-sama’s chakra as well as the luminous moonlit fabric of Izuna’s. He follows them with a dash, slicing through the genjutsu they’ve placed on their immediate surroundings in order to hide their presence, but stops every once in a while to catch his breath.

(Biwako is going to kill him and he knows it).

By the time they’ve entered the forest adjacent to the village, Kagami is seriously beginning to worry. He could feel his heart beating loud in his chest, and senses a familiar flame burst inside of him. The one that constantly screeches for danger and demands to be fed with darkness. A cold sweat is rolling down the sides of his face and he bites his cheek. Proper reasoning states he should turn back. He's well aware of the secrets the Uchiha clan often hides. The tension that often broils between Tobirama-sensei and Madara-sama (occassionally with Izuna's involvement, as well) are enough to prove the mistrust. He'd promised, once upon a time, that he would never sink his teeth into any of it, opting to focus all of his energy in the protection of the village. However, he finds his spirit shrieking for clarity. His master's death undoubtly unlocked within in him, and this is the reason why he steps inside the shadowy line of trees to continue his pursuit.

Madara-sama and Izuna are a few kilometres from Konoha when finally, their chakra movements stop in their tracks. Kagami hides himself away from his uncles’ radius. And although he knows they wouldn’t hurt their own, it still wouldn’t do good to be found spying on his clansmen.

Kagami sees Madara-sama hunched over at that moment. His uncle retrieves something from his pocket – a small scroll – before handing it to Izuna. After words of confirmation are exchanged between the brothers, the younger of the two unwraps the scroll and flips it open, revealing a series of complex fuinjutsu the likes of which only an Uzumaki could be skilled enough to make.

An Uzumaki.

Wait –

“ _Release!_ ” Izuna says with a hand seal and the scroll bursts into a large puff of smoke.

Hashirama Senju’s hand bursts out first. He half-convulses in a series of coughs, and grips at Madara-sama’s shoulder for support as he takes a step forward, revealing his tall form dressed in full battle gear. “Oh, by the gods!” He exclaims. Blinking back the tears in his eyes, he beams almost like a child, but is cut off when the Uchiha clan head clasps a palm over his mouth.

“Be quiet, you idiot!” Madara-sama hisses, though immediately withers under the steely glare of Mito Uzumaki who takes a graceful step beside her husband. She purses her lips as she haughtily instructs the Uchiha to get his hands off the love of her life. “Sorry.” The man mutters before flickering his attention to what the couple had brought with them.

Kagami strains to see from where he’s hiding behind a tree, but it seems as if the First Hokage and Mito-sama had lugged around a large wooden container with them and –

And then suddenly, Kagami comes to a realization. His breath catches painfully in his throat and he bites on his fist to keep himself from crying. He thinks, he shouldn’t have come here. He should’ve stayed at home until he was ready to look at his sensei’s body. But now the picture of death is laid out in front of him, causing the questions to fly across his mind in fleeting intervals. Asking him what had happened to his master when the six of them left. If he’d died fast, painless, and peaceful.

But Hashirama suddenly breaks Kagami’s focus, the same way he breaks open the wooden casket –

Pulling out Tobirama Senju from within.

The Second Hokage canters forward, albeit wobbly and unstable, as he casts everyone with his signature red glazed glare. His snow white hair has been trimmed on one side and his entire body is wrapped in bandages, but it is him all the same.

Kagami's master. Breathing. _Alive_.

He is running towards Tobirama-sensei before he can stop himself.

“Kagami! What – “ Izuna stammers, but it does little to change what his nephew had already seen.

Kagami drops to his knees in front of them, almost a little pathetic if not for the total lack of care he has for what they think of him, and breathes out hard. He doesn’t know if he’s having trouble stopping the tremor in his hands because of his injuries or because he’s sobbing. He’s not entirely sure. Still, he raises his head and meets his master’s gaze, which appears broken hearted and regretful and entirely sorry for everything that had happened.

He tells him one thing, his face twisting mournfully.

“Fuck _you_ , Tobirama Senju.”


	2. He survives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning for mentions of past ableism, infanticide, alcoholism, and deaths of children, particularly during the warring clans era.

**_Two_ **

It’s peculiar to think that the first thing that comes to Tobirama’s mind is, _when did he learn to speak that kind of language so freely?_ But as an afterthought, he concedes to the fact that he deserves it. Because he can utilize a variety of excuses to justify withholding the information of his survival from his students, yet it would still leave him feeling guilty and not at all worthy of their forgiveness.

He remembers the words of Butsuma Senju. Clan leader. Shinobi. _Father._ “Once you are head of the clan,” He once told Hashirama when they were children. He had not been aware that Tobirama was just around the corner, listening. “You will understand why you need to hide things.” His lips had been a tight line when he spoke the words, face steeled as he looked at his heir. “A lot of things.”

“Even from those you love?” Hashirama’s eyes had been wide, as usual, but lacked the characteristic mirth that resided in his beautiful brown orbs. (There mother’s eyes had held the same shade, like the swirl of bark from the trees his brother would craft beneath caring hands. She’d died of a broken heart, days after they put Itama on the ground. A person, Tobirama thinks, could only take so much sadness.)

“ _Especially_ from those you love.” Butsuma had answered, and Tobirama thinks, he isn’t sure if he loves his father. The man has done things that have damaged his two eldest sons and killed his two youngest, and though it had always been for the sake of protecting them, there are days when he sees children laughing near the Hokage’s compound and realize that so much blood had been avoidable after all. If not completely.

They’d once had a sister, their parents’ third child, who’d been a two day old babe when her own father smothered her. She’d looked just like Kawarama, had even cried like him. Lungs so fierce and brave. But her legs, they were disfigured –

And that posed a problem for their father that Tobirama refused to accept even after all these years.

Hashirama was six-years-old and he was four. They’d watched as Butsuma walked towards the white frosted forest, cradling their sweet Yuriko in her purple swaddling clothes. The hems had been embroidered with silver lilies – a lovely gift, which their mother had worked on during her pregnancy. When he returned a few hours later, his eyes were red and his fingers involuntarily twitched.

Yuriko was nowhere to be found. Only her swaddling clothes remained, clutched in Butsuma’s left fist. Hashirama reached out to hold Tobirama’s hand and the two of them stared at the sky as the snow fell and kissed their cheeks. Their father locked the two of them in a strangely affectionate embrace before walking inside their house to face the rage of his grieving wife. She’d not known about his plan, but he did it anyway.

Winter had been so unusually cold that year, Tobirama remembers. And he vowed he would never embody the parts of his father that ultimately destroyed his family.

But then, a rush of evening breeze dismantles a nearby leaf and it brushes Tobirama’s cheek with a tenderness that brings him back to Kagami’s kneeling form.

“How… _could you?_ ” Kagami’s labored breathing pulses in time with his weakening chakra and Tobirama, though shaking from his own effort at staying afoot, takes a step towards him.

“Kagami, I – “ He starts but is immediately cut off when his young student dips his head down.

Kagami’s forehead touches the soil, almost as if he is bowing in the presence of the gods themselves. It is seconds later when everyone realizes he has passed out from exhaustion. He starts to wobble and almost falls to his side to collapse against dust and soil if not for Madara’s quick reflexes.

The Uchiha clan head catches his nephew in a careful grip before cradling the boy close to his chest. He puts a hand on Kagami’s forehead, but draws back just as quickly. “He has a fever.” He says to the others.

Izuna’s eyebrows furrow in anger and worry. “He isn’t even supposed to be outside.” He says. The paleness of Kagami’s face uncomfortably gnaws at Tobirama’s gut as he feels the concern creep up his spine. He observes the way Madara runs his fingers through the boy’s curls. _As black as a raven’s feathers_ – a natural trait within their clan. What’s unusual, though, are the waves. A characteristic he’d inherited from his civilian mother.

“I didn’t think anyone from your family could track you down once you’ve put up your barriers.” Tobirama murmurs with a frown, fighting back a wince as the rise and fall of his chest catches at a still-healing wound.

Izuna glares up at him and snaps, “Need I remind you that you were the one who provided him with extra skill to pierce through the veil of our genjutsus?”

If Tobirama was taken slightly aback from Izuna’s sudden hostility, he doesn’t show it. He thinks, the last time they’ve ever spat venom at each other was during the first few years after Konoha was built, and the Senju and Uchiha still harbored an amount of mistrust against each other. “Your point?” He challenges, still, with a twitch of his lip.

Izuna’s smile is razor sharp and it reminds Tobirama of a gray wolf as it bares its teeth in the presence of a potential prey. The instinct to tense his muscles and go for his kunai is still there, despite the fact that the warring clans era has been over for more than a decade. He is shocked to feel the familiar need to protect himself in the face of an Uchiha’s threatening chakra. “Nothing. Just that I wonder if you took Kagami under your wing just so you could establish some sort of sick power play over the Uchiha and not because you value his skill.”

Tobirama’s nostrils flare at that and he feels the heat of rage bloom inside his chest. He senses Hashirama and Mito’s subtle preparation to intervene if anything goes physical. “How dare you even insinuate that? He has been under my charge since he was a child. I’ve always taken care of him. All of them – “

“Then why haven’t you told any of your precious students that you’re still alive?” Izuna cuts him off with a challenging gaze, most of the playfulness melting away in an instant.

Tobirama feels the words ghost through his tongue in a matter of seconds. _I’m trying to protect them_ , is a generic response. _We can’t rush into this_ , is a given. But deep down, he knows it’s not that simple and he almost says it. Almost utters the sentence, _I don’t know_. But he bites it off before he can lose control.

“Enough.” Hashirama steps in, putting both his hands on his waist. He raises a confused eyebrow as his eyes dart from Tobirama to Izuna and back. “What has gotten into the two of you?”

“I believe the events of the past week have taken a toll on all of us.” Mito interjects calmly. Glancing down at Kagami’s shaking form, her face softens into that of genuine care, carefully molding through her usually neutral expression. “But we won’t make do with the situation by just standing here, especially with Kagami-kun’s state. If I may, Hashirama and I have established a cottage a few distances away. We can settle there until we figure out what to do next.”

Madara frowns. “I think Izuna should return to the clan compound for the night.” He says. When Mito casts him an enigmatic look, he fights the urge to roll his eyes. “I trust the safety of your household, my lady. Your skill in protective seals are unmatched and I’m aware no enemy would sense our presence in that area. But I think it’d be wise if either Izuna or I don’t draw suspicions by being away at the same time.”

“And what of Kagami?” Tobirama rasps against his bandages.

“He should stay with us for the night.” Hashirama says. “I can fix him up while he’s there.”

Izuna nods. “Our clansmen are less likely to suspect him of being gone since they won’t be looking for him, considering he’s expected to be confined to his bed.” He says. Standing, he brushes away the dust from his pants. “I better head back.”

“Now?” Tobirama asks before he can stop himself and _oh_ , he knows Hashirama is pursing his lips from his peripheral. Knows his brother is either keeping himself from smiling, or grimacing. Mito, on the other hand, has her fan pressed up against the lower half of her face. It’s a tactic, he knows, in order to conceal most of her emotion.

Izuna gives him a mocking look. “ _Yes, now_. Unless you want me to stay and brew you some of grandmother’s old tea.” He says, his tone oozing with sarcasm. Tobirama doesn’t know if he wants to hit him or pull him in. (He already knows the answer to that, though. He has known since he was eighteen and Izuna was seventeen, two sides of the same coin looking across the construction of a new born Konoha.) “We have a lot of things to take care of. We are, after all, still at war.”

Tobirama grits his teeth behind closed lips and looks away, feeling a little offended by Izuna’s attitude. He thinks he hears a choked sound of laughter from Madara, but chooses to ignore it. “As if I didn’t know that.” He says under his breath.

Izuna then turns his back and for a moment, Tobirama thinks he’s about to take his flight back to the village. But the man merely glances sideways at his nephew, locking eyes with his older brother. The two Uchihas stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, before Hashirama practically whines, “Stop that" The two men raise puzzled brows at him. “I may not have any super human jutsu that’s able to read minds, but I’ve memorized your antics well enough to know when you’re speaking to each other telepathically. And it’s weird.” He waves his hands around.

Madara responds with clear disapproval. “Hey. You knew what you were getting into when you struck up a friendship with the Uchiha clan.”

“Yes, because you’re all _so_ close.” Tobirama tiredly looks up. If he could cross his arms over his chest without eliciting some form of pain, he would’ve done so by now.

“Um, duh.” Madara says. “Every Uchiha is related one way or another.”

“Oh, here’s an idea!” Hashirama holds up his palms, enthusiastically picturing his new (not really new) plan. “Interclan. Marriages.”

“Brother.” Tobirama closes his eyes.

“My love.” Mito shakes her head, disappointment carved on her fine red lips.

“What?” Hashirama shrugs his broad shoulders. “Konoha has been standing for almost fifteen years, yet the Uchiha are still here marrying their cousins.”

Madara blinks at him before his facial expression turns sour and irritated. “That has been the way since the time of the clan founders. It keeps the line pure, you oak brained – “

Mito glares down at him and he clamps his mouth shut.

Izuna sighs, pressing two fingers against his temple. “Can we all at least agree that this is an issue for another time? With a damn war going on, I don’t think anyone has any ideas of settling down and building a family any time soon.”

Tobirama feels himself swallow hard at that and tries not to stare at Izuna. How his face, pale and fresh as snow, coalesces with the first quarter moonlight. He remembers him when they were children, blade upon blade on the surface of the narrow river. And then as young adults, standing shoulder to shoulder as they listened to the impact of hammer against wood. Konoha being built under the uncertain air of spring. Blood spilling on the battlefield. His fingernails clawing at the man’s bare skin, their sighs mingling in the dead of the night.

It is only ever at that moment when Tobirama looks around him and sees most of the people he’d grown up with gathered, even after all this time. Still alive. Still fighting. Thirty to thirty-two-year-old adults who’ve gone through the waves of battle and politics, only to come out as different versions of themselves. A change that occurs over and over and _over_.

(He’s exhausted.)

He wonders if the reason why they’re still standing has more to do with the fact that they don’t know anything else, rather than the idea of hope or love or something more gentle.

He glances down at Kagami and remembers the boy during the two years of unusual peace. He and others had been little more than toddlers easing their way into being able bodied children. And then the First Shinobi War broke out, forcing them to grow up faster. Because none of them had any choice in the matter, especially when they were (are) the most exceptional of their generation.

Tobirama doesn’t regret teaching them the ways of the shinobi. What he does regret, though, is his lack of political skill in avoiding conflict with other villages.

He nips at the idea of peace happening at least one more time before he dies and frowns as he finds himself feeling almost nothing. He no longer wishes for it because he craves the taste (like how his mother would not go by a day, a night, without downing a bottle of sake - prompting an explosive fight between her and his father), but because it is something Kagami and the others deserve to live in. To _grow old_ in.

But maybe, just maybe, he’s also itching for some sort of stability. Because this is the only way he can finally have everything he wants. Hashirama’s dream. The village’s protection. His students becoming the kind of people they’re meant to be. Izuna and him, embraced in warmth.

If only the Uchiha spare wasn’t being so difficult at the moment, Tobirama mentally sighs. He almost gives in and reaches out for the man’s hand.

But before he gets the chance to even open his mouth, Izuna is already dashing out of the area. His dark cloak whips around him, swallowing his lithe form as he disappears into the shadows.

Tobirama doesn’t notice the way Madara frowns at him. And Kagami continues to tremble in his sleep, wrapped securely in his uncle’s arms.

* * *

A single drop of water lands on a pool of gray, sending a thousand ripples travelling across the surface, and Tobirama almost loses himself.

 _Almost_.

“Give in.” Kinkaku’s voice echoes through the recesses of his fogging mind. Tobirama’s focus is dipping like the rush of tides. It pushes and pulls with a heavy tug, seeking to overwhelm him. “Give in, Tobirama Senju.”

It’s funny (it’s really not), that the only time Kinkaku shows an ounce of tranquillity is when Tobirama is on the brink of death. It feels as if the Kumo nin is trying to ease his passing by encouraging him to die. But even through his uncountable wounds and the blood blinding his left eye, the Nidaime refuses to stand down. Not here, not now.

He lets out a wolfish growl as he shakes his head. The temptation to close his eyes and rest feels like a siren’s touch. He has been fighting battles ever since he could walk. He’d first killed a man when he was six, had picked up the blade and never once put it down, mainly because he could not afford to be lax in the face of slim survivability. He had always needed to protect the people he cared about. And he knows he would one day die while doing so.

But now Tobirama is here, standing in front of Kinkaku with one hand clutching the Sword of the Thunder God, and feels as if he is still not ready to leave. He can almost hear his weapon speaking to him, whispering in subtle chirps that remind him of occasional autumn rain. A boy among the warring clans, drenched in warm weather as the elders nod at good harvest and smile at the children who’ve managed to survive past the age of twelve.

“I have waited for this moment for a long time.” Kinkaku says, snapping Tobirama out of his reverie. The enemy takes a step forward, a malicious grin plastered on his face, and it’s enough evidence to suggest he’d been planning out this attack ever since his failed coup against Konoha and the Second Raikage. His and Ginkaku’s actions had played key roles in the cause of this horrific war. “What joy it is to taste victory in delivering a deadly blow to one of my most prized targets.”

“You’re not about to find out.” Tobirama murmurs weakly, eliciting a bark of laughter from Kinkaku.

“You may have eliminated my entire force, but none of that means shit if you can’t defeat me.” Kinkaku tells him. His arm sizzles and the familiar char of red flesh travels up from his fingers, producing an abundance of chakra. Tobirama is painfully aware that this is the burning power he’d attained when he consumed the Kyuubi’s stomach lining.

Tobirama grits his teeth and lets out a low exhale. Truth be told, he is dreading the next blow. It may be the last one he receives, but he thinks, he has a final move up his sleeve and it will make or break everything from here on out.

Kinkaku is in front of him before he could take another breath, and he makes do with what he has. He fishes out something from his back pocket – a smoke bomb. He hadn’t used one for so long, not after he’d began facing enemies who were too powerful to be affected by low level equipment, but he throws it down on the ground anyway, grunting from the jolting ache on his shoulder.

A blanket of white smoke bursts through the space between him and Kinkaku, creating a thin and temporary shield, which he immediately takes advantage of. Tobirama performs the appropriate hand seal and internally shouts, _Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!_ A double quickly appears beside him, and he feels it take away a portion of his remaining chakra, further dulling his senses.

He allows his clone to throw itself at an angry Kinkaku, swinging a kick at the enemy’s head and succeeding only once before its ankle is savagely wrapped in gigantic crimson fingers. Still, it is all the time Tobirama needs to pick out one of the last remaining items in his pouch.

The scroll is so miniscule, it’s almost like a toy for a babe. But it holds the hope for Tobirama’s survival. Ripping it open, he swings back his arm and allows the parchment to unroll itself in front of him. Hanging above ground like that, he glances down and sees the fuinjutsu Mito had created for him before he and the Escort Unit had trudged out of the village.

 _Use it well, Tobirama_. Hashirama’s voice echoes through his head.

He thinks, there is no more suitable time than this to do so.

Tobirama clutches the center of the seal, almost tearing the paper apart, and shouts, “ _Release!_ ”

A gigantic flow of blue chakra illuminates from the scrawls of ink, gathering the characters together to form a circular shape beneath his fist. When it reaches his skin, he feels the pain of its energy forcing its way into his veins, causing him to snarl like a wounded liger. The coolness of the ocean blue waves pierces through the points of his body where skin meets bone meets soul, before it begins to burn in what could only be life trying to adjust itself to his physique.

 _It’s not perfect_. It is Mito he hears this time. _If anything, it could even kill you._

But truly, what choice does he have?

He gasps, his chest expanding from the added chakra. Kinkaku drives his clone to the ground, effectively destroying it from the scene as it disappears into a puff of smoke. And Tobirama knows, at that exact moment where eternity seems to unfold within him, that there is no time. He can’t wait for the extra power supply to fully coat his bloodstream. He must act now, or never.

So he takes his Hiraishin Kunai – the last one he’d had strapped to his thigh – and throws it past Kinkaku who is left momentarily confused by the deliberate action. Still, the enemy, half transformed into a tailed beast, dives in for the kill –

But could only do so much, until Tobirama feels his marker stab at something approximately one kilometre away. It is a random spot, one he doesn’t even fully recognize, but he takes it anyway. He grasps the location with all of his might before allowing this technique to pull him forward, like an elastic band that is released from a firm, firm hold. Tensile force giving way to the only escape he could think of.

 _Flying Thunder God_ , Tobirama breathes out.

His very core is ripped through space and time, the environment scratched away in sketches of ruined motion pictures. But not before he sees, through his peripheral, the way Kinkaku collides against an empty space. The enemy roars out in rage, “ _TOBIRAMA!!!_ ”

But it is already too late.

Tobirama has gotten away.

* * *

In the end, he thinks, it is Mito who had saved him.

“You need not stare at me so intensely, sweet brother.” She tells him as Hashirama is running a healing hand over Kagami’s body. The boy had thankfully seized his shivers moments ago, his breathing even. Madara had gone out to scout for potential enemies. And though it isn’t really needed, it’s instinct for shinobi to be extra cautious. Mito is seated beside a table near Tobirama’s bed, preparing tea. “In all honesty, I felt guilty giving you that scroll.”

Tobirama sighs. “Mito-nee…”

“What if it hadn’t worked?” Mito asks with a frown.

“But it did.” Tobirama responds.

Mito looks at him with something akin to disapproval. “You are a scientist, Tobirama.” She tells him and there is a portion in her tone that tells Tobirama he’s being scolded. “We both know such uncertainties are unacceptable, especially when it comes to life and death.”

Yet, it is an unspoken thing to think that regardless of that, they wouldn’t have done it any other way. Because no matter what anyone says, Tobirama is alive.

 _But so is Kinkaku_ , he thinks and throws his head back against the head board.

When Hashirama finally stands from Kagami’s side, Tobirama fights the urge to sit up. “How is he?”

“He’ll be fine, little brother.” Hashirama tells him as if he’s being irrational. “Really. It’s like you haven’t known him since he was a kid. Your decoy plan worked. From what I hear, all of your students are going to live.” He grins and Tobirama tries not to sag in relief.

Still, he laments at the thought of having to face Kagami once he wakes up. He’d always been one of the most hot headed ones. True, Hiruzen and Danzou have their respectively short tempers as well, but the Sarutobi’s rage can be easily extinguished. And the latter need only sulk for a bit before he feels the desire to join society once more.

Kagami, however, harbors _grudges_. Tobirama supposes it’s the Uchiha in him.

And then, a thought passes through his mind, alerting him. “Who’s guarding the village, besides Izuna?”

Hashirama’s laughter explodes through the small cottage and it prompts Tobirama to look for the nearest object to throw at him. He fails to find anything, though, and chances a glance at Mito who is calmly sipping her tea, obviously having made sure to hide anything that can be chucked at her husband. “Tobirama, really. You think I’d leave Konoha with little surveillance in the middle of the First Shinobi War while I’m away?” His smile turns a little playful at that, something that the Nidaime doesn’t entirely like. “I had some of my choice subordinates return home.”

Tobirama quirks an inquisitive brow. “May I know who these subordinates are, then?”

Hashirama continues smiling, almost giddy. “Well, let’s just say there’s an abundance of cousins who are at the outskirts of Konoha as we speak.”

Tobirama blinks. He looks at Mito, who is looking at her husband, before a dull realization dawns on him. “Touka?” Hashirama aggressively nods. He makes a little noise of comprehension. “I see.”

His older brother’s shoulders drop, a pout forming on his lips. “Oh, come on. I thought you’d be excited!” He exclaims, plopping down on the ground before crawling towards his wife’s waiting arms. They catch each other in loving embrace and Tobirama fights the urge to turn away, not because he resents their happiness but because he misses someone who is trying to avoid him and he doesn’t want to trust the beating of his heart in the middle of a war. “Hikaku’s with them as well, I think.”

Tobirama snorts. “Most likely.” Ever since Konoha was created, he rarely saw Touka without Hikaku and vice versa.

The entire space turns silent immediately afterwards. Tobirama finally allows himself to relax against his healing wounds, looking up to stare at the blank ceiling. The night further descends upon them as husband and wife murmur to each other about their own private musings.

Tobirama knows he should be delighted. He’d survived not just one, but two battles against one of the most powerful shinobis to date. It gives him another day to live. To fight. To prepare Hiruzen for his ascension as Third Hokage before properly passing down the title to him. But then he flexes his tired hands, stretches the fingers until his veins appear beneath his pale skin, and he feels a sense of dread squeeze at the pit of his stomach.

 _What’s going to happen?_ The question hangs, oddly, inside his mind. It’s as if there is something in the space-time continuum that has been disrupted. A fabric in the great balance of things that is about to tip over. Surviving has made him more aware of his surroundings, sensing even the slightest shift in the air.

He wonders if this is what Izuna had felt when he lived through the wound he’d given him so many years ago. Tobirama looks at the spot on the wall in front of him and wishes the Uchiha were by his side at the moment.

 _But he isn’t_ , and so the shadows thicken.

It is minutes later when Tobirama ultimately falls into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't claim to fully understand the nature of fuinjutsu in the Naruto universe and am rather unsure if chakra can even be stored and claimed in such manners. However, I would like to explore the flexibility of it in this fic as well as how non-Uchihas or Sharingan users can utilize the space-time continuum to their own ninjutsu skills as well.


	3. He walks (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was honestly intended to be a much much longer chapter. But the more I wrote this, the more I felt that it would be better if I just split it into two. Both being in Hiruzen's POV.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for depiction of unintentionally inflicting physical pain during a mental breakdown.

**_Three_ **

_Thirty-four days. Nine hours. Four minutes. Seven seconds._

Hiruzen is prying the window open, his fingers digging into every corner, every edge.

_Thirty-four days._

He feels a dull, weakening ache travel up his bare forearms, threatening to reach the barely-healed stitches tattooed against his skin. His upper half is adorned almost entirely with bandages. And beneath all the cloth and medicine and painfully fresh memories, Hiruzen has been marked by the symbol of death.

How strange it is to think that as a shinobi, this is not the first time he’d been reminded of how fragile humans are, but this is the instance that bothers him the most.

_Nine hours._

He realizes, with a huff, the futility of his efforts and it forces him to stop. Taking a step back, he puffs up one cheek and places his hands on his hips, almost as if he were a displeased child and not a young adult, already battle hardened from growing up in a war.

It is only when he stares at the glass in front of him that he marvels at the subtlety of his reflection. He blinks back at what little he could make of himself, before pushing down the sudden urge to recoil.

He appears the same, and does not, both at the same time. And it’s enough to pick at the hundreds and thousands of scars sitting on his grieving heart.

He breathes out loudly through his nose and looks away.

_Four minutes._

Time doesn’t stop for anyone, and the thought of it is torturous. Hiruzen feels as if he is one of the ticks etched into the face of a grandfather clock. A mere number against the very thing that enslaves them all, ruthlessly screaming the fact that no matter how great a village or a shinobi or a proclaimed fucking _prodigy_ is, no one can defeat the test of old, allfather, time.

 _Seven seconds_.

Hiruzen lifts up a single hand seal. He charges his chakra and feeds it strength, before taking in a deep breath and blowing out a small string of fiery mist. It reaches the window, prompting the hidden seal attached to it to appear in front of him. He need only analyze it once to realize it is nothing like Mito-hime’s, or even that of Tobirama-sensei’s. It is weak, and he isn’t the Nidaime’s student for nothing.

He then performs a series of more hand seals and places a palm on the center of the symbol. Gritting his teeth, he starts to imbue it with the necessary chakra – _Sharp and deadly, Saru. Like an army of kunai knives driving into a single point. All at the same time._ – in order to destroy it and finds his breath hitching with every inch of effort exerted.

For a moment, he feels a spike of anger rise inside of him. Like a bright red flame sparking into life as stone scrapes against stone.

 _Thirty-_ fucking _-four days._

The fuinjutsu glows once – a subtle yet pristine white aura that shines for half a second inside the dimly lit room. And then, it disappears, giving the window only half a second before it cracks into what seems like a million pieces. The shards are so miniscule, they barely make a sound when Hiruzen puts a finger on the surface, allowing it to shatter completely on the floor.

He opens the window frame as quietly as he can. His hospital room is guarded day and night, making him feel like a prisoner, and his mouth twists into a frown when he senses four people standing guard by the door. He rolls his eyes and mentally scoffs, _amateurs_.

By the time he has leapt soundlessly off the sill and landed on a nearby branch, he can hear the deafening quiet of the village sleeping beneath him. The cool breeze causes his shirt to cling to his beaten torso, giving him a sense of unusual comfort. He feels, with relief, how the suffocation of his stay in the hospital slips away in momentary peace.

But then, he hears laughter from somewhere in the streets as two lovers are stealing a last goodbye kiss, and feels a sense of melancholy. A father is coming home to his children as they jump from the open door to embrace him. The lights in each household are turning off one by one. Over the distance, he can see the flickering shadows of shinobi scouts taking turns watching the village gates for any potential danger.

(It is uncharacteristic of Hiruzen to feel jealous of others' happiness. He had always been a content child, having grown up in a loving home. But it is in that single moment of sudden clarity that he feels an unspeakable urge to run to everyone he had ever loved and trap them in his arms, never to be put in danger of dying ever again.)

Above him, a large hawk passes by in a swift and eerie motion. Hiruzen is aware it is Madara-sama’s, taking part in the nightly ritual of ensuring the village’s safety. Especially in times when Konoha is prone to attacks from Kumogakure. The summon is adorned with a pair of beautiful red beads tied around its ankle, and the accessory clacks against each other as the avian flaps its wings. It eventually disappears behind the Hokages’ stone faces.

Thirty-four days. Nine hours. Four minutes. Seven seconds. It’s been that long since Hiruzen was given the title of Sandaime Hokage. Since they left Tobirama-sensei to act as a decoy in order for them to get away from the Kinkaku Force, killing him in the process.

Hiruzen swallows hard. His eyes drift off towards another wing of the hospital. A portion of the building he’d figured a friend is currently residing in. Expanding the scope of his senses, he taps into one of its rooms, reaching the figure he’s been searching for and almost smiling at the familiar coolness of Danzou’s chakra –

 _Blocked_. Hiruzen stops. He is met with a large dark barrier, keeping him out from creating any form of contact. He struggles to touch the shadowy chakra, but finds it isn’t to his liking. It is unwelcoming and brooding. A power lying dormant in its sleep.

_Thirty-four days. Nine hours. Four minutes. Seven seconds._

Hiruzen inhales with steely determination and leaps off the branch, heading towards the direction of the other wing. He has not seen his friends in more than a month (so long, _too_ long, it hurts him more than words can say.)

He supposes it’s about time that changes.

* * *

He carefully steps inside the dark room, making sure to close the door as soundlessly as he can behind him. He’s heard the medics whisper enough to know where they’re keeping the rest of his teammates, even the ones who’d already been permitted to go home (thank the gods for gossiping healers). He mentally pouts at that, though, and quietly grunts at the unfairness of how he is required to be under strict surveillance while some of his friends have been released into the arms of freedom.

He quickly adjusts his vision to the pitch black environment. This particular hospital room is as he expects it to be. Small, modest, and secure. It lacks any excess resources the likes of which are being preserved during these trying times, and he can understand that. In fact, it’s one of the reasons why he’d been so keen on getting out of his damn cot.

But Biwako is an unmoving force, her resolve as a medic frightening him in ways he cannot explain. Or admit, for that fact. She’s usually on the field, along with the rest of the talented healers her age. However, he knows that sometimes duty calls for her to use her skills at home.

He also knows that this time, it’s because the Nidaime’s Escort Unit had almost perished, and she is one of the reasons they’re all still alive.

A body shifts in the bed in front of Hiruzen, quickly grabbing his attention. “How long do you plan on standing there like an idiot?”

Hiruzen grins without thinking, but feels something creep up his spine when he hears how hoarse Danzou’s voice is. The boy’s back is turned to him, his shirt creased and stretched.

He makes his way to the edge of the bed and sits. “So, what are you in for?” He jokes.

Danzou scoffs, but doesn’t look at him. “For talking to myself in the hallway, apparently.” He murmurs. Then, after a while, he brings his arms to his chest and folds them, almost as if he’s hugging himself. “And for punching the medics.”

Hiruzen tries not to wince. He can imagine the chaos, and wonders whatever it was that prompted Danzou to do that. “Why did you…”

Danzou doesn’t respond right away and Hiruzen can practically feel the shame radiating off of his darkened form. When he speaks, his voice is so small the Sarutobi has to strain just to hear the words. “I’m not sure. But they were trying to get me to move.” He says, shifting in the cot. “I didn’t want to.”

Hiruzen feels something churn painfully at the pit of his stomach. Danzou had never been the type to hurt his own people, least of all _medics_. Nor is he the kind of person who refuses medical attention when he obviously needs it. But then again, the Sarutobi could sense the boy's guilt and regret enough to know that it had not been his intention to lash out. Not in the midst of all this grief. "You didn't mean it."

Danzou shakes his head, sighing. "I didn't." He says. "I apologized and they gave me chocolate pudding the next day."

Hiruzen's lips tug up into a small smile at that. He thinks, how strange it is that at one moment, people may be inclined to create ruckus, but are still not far from offering each other peace just as quickly as the trouble dies out. He wishes war could be just as simple. But one need only take a single glance at all the blood that has been spilled to know that it's hard to move on when the only thing that is driving a nation right now is revenge for the death of loved ones. It's hard, even, to find moral grounding when you are out into the field and are vulnerable to blind hatred, thinking that bringing an enemy down and dying for it is the highest form of duty.

Some days, Hiruzen feels the desperate need to preserve whatever innocence he has left. But they’ve participated in this war for more than half of their lives so – what else is there to make any of them flinch?

(He eventually finds himself feeling the need to retch from all the things they’ve said and done. But it had been for the sake of the village. That is what you do when you want to protect your home. When you want to see your people and the ones you love live another day.)

He nudges his knee against the back of Danzou’s thigh and the boy takes the hint to move over, making space for the already cramped bed. “You know this cot was made for just one patient, right?”

 _Patient_. Hiruzen tests the word in his mouth, inaudibly rolling it around with his tongue, as he lies down next to his best friend. Being a shinobi, he’d never considered himself as a patient whenever he needed medical attention. It was a word that sounded more fitting for people whose purpose is not to be expendable, but to be protected. And he knows which one he is categorized in.

There is a bitter, guilty part of him that questions this now, though, that he is Sandiame Hokage.

“I know.” Hiruzen responds with a light tone. He’s looking up at the ceiling, one shoulder touching the upper half of Danzou’s back. “But it’s not as if you can stop me from squeezing in.”

A sigh and then Danzou turns, facing him. Hiruzen gives him a single glance and observes the bandages wrapped around his forehead. He himself has a ton of them hugging his arms, his legs, his chest. But he doesn’t know why it upsets him more to see these injuries on his best friend.

When Danzou speaks, it is with a frightening, deadpan certainty. “Sensei is dead.”

Hiruzen nods, his breath catching. “Yeah.”

“You’re Hokage now.”

“I am.” Hiruzen softly confirms.

There’s a voice in his head, loud and lamenting, that wants to apologize. But that would be a blatant act of disrespect. Not just to the legacy of his two predecessors or even the idea of Konoha’s respectable leadership, but to Danzou himself. The boy had always wanted to be better than Hiruzen, to stand on the same footing if not above, and he had worked himself up to becoming one of the best in their generation. An apology is not what he deserves.

Still, Hiruzen wishes he would let the rivalry go and allow himself to be fucking happy. Because now that Tobirama-sensei is gone, it feels as if the world is closing in on them. And if they want to avoid falling apart, they must cling to each other. That was what they have been taught to do.

Hiruzen would be damned if that is not what they _will_ do.

But it’s hard to ask Danzou to choose happiness, because happiness is so scarce these days. It is a blue moon. A mother of pearl. A rare, rare flower that blooms in the middle of a sweltering heat. Any method of attaining it now no longer comes without tragedy.

“Have they found his… his body?” Danzou asks, his tone unusually gentle.

Hiruzen feels a lump form inside his throat, but swallows it down before it could break through his voice. “I don’t know.” He answers. “That’s what I want to find out. So that we could hold a proper funeral.”

“It’s the least he deserves.” Danzou says. “He did so much, for all of us.”

“He did.” Hiruzen responds and it hurts for them to be speaking of their sensei in the past tense, especially when neither of them have come to fully accept that he's gone.

“I’m not mad at you, you know.” Danzou suddenly says and Hiruzen tries not to show how surprised he is at that statement. This was not the Shimura who’d snapped at him that night in the forest as they were surrounded by the Kinkaku Force, moments after he’d volunteered to be the decoy. “I’m mad at myself.”

Hiruzen’s eyebrows crease ever so slightly. He tries to speak without expressing the strain that clutches his chest. “Aren’t we all?” He says with a slight shake of his head, trying for a brighter tone and hoping it would encourage Danzou to keep going. To keep opening up to him without feeling the need to hate himself for it. Because only the gods know when was the last time the boy had ever spoken to him without the lingering resentment that has become the shadow looming over their friendship.

Danzou casts his gaze down, his dark tousled hair tickling Hiruzen’s cheek. “You don’t understand. My anger is… dark. It’s irrational and pathetic and –“

“Completely understandable because we’re in the midst of so much death?” Hiruzen suggests, unable to stop himself and instantly regretting it.

“Will you let me finish speaking for once, you stupid monkey?” Danzou glares at him. “You know that’s your problem, right? You perceive yourself as wise and good. You always think that everything’s going to be okay, and when people say otherwise, you end up shoving the idea down their throats. It’s impossible for things to turn out well all the time, Saru.”

Hiruzen frowns, feeling the need to defend himself. But he knows that’s not the best response at the moment. “I know that, but – “ One look from Danzou and he immediately shuts up. “I’m sorry. Go on.”

Danzou sighs. “My point is… actually now I _don’t_ know what my point is.” His frustrated groan comes out softer than expected. “I think – I know that – we’re… raised for war. And dying on the battlefield is an honor. But… I’m sick of it, Saru. I’m ashamed of myself, because I feel I don’t want to do this anymore.” He rakes his fingers through his hair and Hiruzen follows the action with curious eyes.

“Danzou…” Hiruzen trails off, but finds he has no words to comfort his best friend. He wishes he knows how to fix this. But he’s already grown used to all the fighting and he’s scared that whatever alterations have been done to him are irreparable. If he were to be honest, he can’t even imagine life outside of war. He hasn’t fantasized about peace since he was sixteen.

If he closes his eyes, maybe, just maybe, he can recall pink roses growing at the courtyard of his ancestral home. His father is kneeling on the sacred land of their forbearers, arms wide open and laughing for a hug. The meadows, fresh and green with fertile soil, is supple beneath his pudgy hands. And as he runs across the grass with his friends tailing behind him, he can see Tobirama-sensei and Hashirama-sama smiling at them from afar.

But then, the memories become too far way, and suddenly they are nothing more than a million grains of sand slipping through his fingers.

Danzou moves and Hiruzen notices how his shoulders sag, as if he is trying to release some form of tension. “I wanted to be a great warrior, like Tobirama-sensei.” He says, catching at some invisible thread on the bed sheets and twirling it between them. “I still do, but I don’t know how to reconcile my ambition with my exhaustion.”

“Maybe you just need to rest.” Hiruzen tries. “And then when you feel better, you can start again.” He continues. But he’s treading carefully, because he wants so badly to help. It’s only a sad thing to know that no matter what he does, Danzou will resent the both of them for it.

Danzou, on the other hand, merely gives him a rueful smile. “Not all of us can afford to stop, go back, and pick up where we left off with such talent and ease.” He responds. “But then again, I suppose not all of us can be appointed Sandaime Hokage before reaching the age of twenty, being both handsome and charismatic at the same time.” The words roll off bitterly across his tongue, and Hiruzen, despite himself, takes it as a chance to joke.

“You think I’m handsome?” He says with a grin.

Danzou blinks, glares, and then jumps on Hiruzen.

Suddenly, the two of them are battling to push the other out of the bed. Arms and legs shoot out from the ruckus, ruining mattress springs and prompting Hiruzen to bite his lip in order to keep his laughter at bay. Danzou is wheezing out small, abrupt chuckles as he lightly jabs a finger on his best friend’s uninjured side, making him yelp out in surprise.

Both boys stop at that and they clasp their hands over their own mouths. They wait for a few seconds, and then a minute, as they hold their breaths in anticipation of some medic walking in on them to find an escaped Hokage and a skilled jounin fooling around like a couple of kids.

When no one comes knocking on the door, they both start to giggle, as if they are once again the same children who ran across Konoha’s stony streams during the first two years of peace. It was a brief wrinkle in time where nothing in the world mattered but them and their friends and everyone who watched as they disappeared into the sun.

Hiruzen doesn’t realize he’s staring at his best friend until the latter clears his throat and starts staring back. The eyes of a Shimura are usually gray. Like a storm that rages on and on as it lets loose its anger against the surface of the seas. Danzou is no exception to this.

But right now, Hiruzen thinks, the boy’s eyes are almost silver blue underneath the splash of the full moonlight. And it is a most beautiful, _beautiful_ color.

He feels the burn before he can stop it. It comes to life and rests, like a warm hearth, just behind his ribcage as his hand slowly reaches for Danzou’s. He draws in a breath when their fingers touch and there is a desperate, pleading voice shouting inside his head, _please, please, more_.

He swallows thickly when Danzou props himself up on one elbow, because it is as if he wants to take a better look at Hiruzen. As if he wants to lean in and capture his lips in a single, swooping motion. His hair falling flat against his forehead, kissing the tips of his nose. A subtle crease forming between his eyebrows.

But then he falls back down on the mattress and turns to look at the ceiling. Hiruzen feels the high disintegrate into the darkness with gradual dizziness and lets out a single, breathy laugh of strained nonchalance, “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” Sitting up, he stretches and looks back over his shoulder, only to see that Danzou has not moved.

“You go on ahead. I think I’ll stay here for a while.” Danzou tells him with a yawn.

Hiruzen raises one eyebrow. “You sure? You do know it’s pretty easy for us to escape this place.”

“I do.” Danzou responds with a single shrug of his shoulder. He takes a pillow and wraps his arms around it. “But I’m not sure if I want to see the others yet. I don't know if I'm... ready for that. Certainly you'd understand, Saru.”

 _Oh_. Hiruzen wrinkles his nose and nods in agreement. It’s a feeling he does not share, though, what with the overwhelming need to be close to his friends over the course of being apart. He doesn’t know why, but ever since he’d woken up three days after coming back from that dreadful mission, he’d felt an intense urge to be physically close with his teammates. To hear their voices. To touch them. All of them. Or at least, one at a time.

(In a way, he knows why. He’s more self-aware than people think. And it’s because he is utterly frightened that if he doesn’t keep a close eye on everyone he loves, he will lose them all in the end. He does not know what continuous grief can do to him, and at this point he’s scared of finding out.)

By the time Hiruzen has closed the door, Danzou is giving him a sleepy wave from the bed. He stands in the middle of the dimly lit hallways for a while and waits. For what, he’s not sure. But eventually, he leaves and sets out into the night.

* * *

It’s way past dinnertime when Hiruzen catches Torifu devouring a bowl of ramen in one of the only food stalls still well enough to keep itself standing during the war. Although Konoha is basically the combined wealth of the Senju and the Uchiha clan, both of which are extremely rich shinobi families, a decade of fighting has still somewhat drained the village of its coffers.

Hiruzen knows that if not for the money of the two clans’ respective subordinate families, the Sarutobi included, the village wouldn’t stand a chance as a participant in this First Shinobi War. He sees the extension of gratitude, sometimes, in Hashirama’s smile whenever he passes by the Hokage’s office. And though he likes being patted on the shoulder every once in a while, he stands by the thought that his family’s contribution to the economy is a part of their duty rather than a favor, and shouldn’t be treated with such revere.

Hiruzen wordlessly sits beside Torifu and watches as the cook stirs a steaming hot broth from behind the counter. He raises up a hand for a single order, before turning his head to his friend who had just finished his entire bowl. “Make that two.” He says.

When Torifu puts down the bowl, Hiruzen opens his mouth to say something, but is immediately cut off. “Lord Third.” His friend says, drawling out the words. He’s dressed in casual clothes, devoid of his hat and exposing the thick mop of auburn hair on his head. (Hiruzen would never admit to marvelling at how pretty the color is, how Torifu is the only member in their team to possess another shade aside from some variant of brown, and wonders if it is as smooth as it looks.) “Aren’t you supposed to be in the hospital right now?”

Hiruzen chuckles awkwardly at that. He’s thankful for the arrival of their ramen, which gives him an excuse to think about his response. But then again, what’s Torifu going to do about it anyway? It’s not like him to tattle. Though it is in his personality (and remarkable ability) to make someone feel bad whenever they do something even just an inch out of line.

“Mmm.” Hiruzen flaps his hands in front of him, inhaling the smell of the broth. “I can’t wait to dig in.”

“Hiruzen.” Torifu curtly says.

“Alright.” Hiruzen half groans and slouches in his seat. “I was getting tired of being trapped in that place. I’m already patched up and ready to go. Look!” He extends his arms, as if this is enough to prove his point.

“You look absolutely mummified.” Torifu scoffs before proceeding to slurp a waterfall of noodles.

Hiruzen pouts, but does the same. Wiping his mouth, he swallows and says. “Hey, trust me. These bandages will be out in, like, two days. Or something.” In truth, he’s not entirely sure about that and if he’s not as careful as he ought to be, he might even need another trip back to the hospital for another fresh batch of clean wraps. He can imagine the stony look on Biwako’s face and almost shudders in fear.

“You’re not a healer, Hiruzen.” Torifu sings, shaking a pinch of nori on top of his sliced pork. “You don’t know that.”

Hiruzen makes a face. “And you do?”

“More than you, at least.” Torifu responds with confidence. He takes a jar of garlic from the counter and heaps a generous amount into his ramen. Hiruzen’s nose wrinkles. He’d never had the taste for putting any additional condiments into his food. His friends had once accused him of being either lazy or boring for it. Though he simply prefers his dishes as they are served. It just feels right to him.

 _Will you be like that as Sandaime Hokage as well?_ A tiny and hysterical voice whispers at the back of his mind. _Rigid and averse to change?_

He quickly pushes it away before it can bother him enough to lose his appetite.

“You forget that I’m the most physically powerful out of all of us. I had to learn how to take care of my body. Properly.” Torifu continues, dark eyes scanning Hiruzen’s battered form. “You took a huge toll that night, Hiruzen.”

Hiruzen snorts, though he doesn’t fight that fact. Truth be told, he hadn’t even noticed how bad his injuries were as they ran across the forests between Kumo and Konoha. The blood may have soaked the inner lining of his wooden armor, but it did not feel as serious as it was. Not when the only thing spinning inside of his head at that moment was _Tobirama-sensei_. (And escaping as far away as he could from the enemy). “So what, are you going to tell me not to use my chakra? To refrain from performing seals and jutsus? Because good luck with that.”

Torifu shakes his head, a small smile forming at the corner of his lips. “There’s nothing wrong with your chakra, Hiruzen. You’ve always had powerful reserves and you control them with admirable skill. But your body – now that’s a different subject. Because you can only take so much physical damage before you reach a point of permanent destruction.” He tells Hiruzen, his voice clear and straight to the point. “You almost died in that wing.”

“I recall.” Hiruzen looks away, sighs, and turns back to shove a spoonful of broth into his mouth. He starts coughing when it travels the wrong way down his throat, filling his windpipe with uncomfortable heat. He gestures for water and chugs it down the moment the glass hits the surface.

He’s trying not to feel too guilty about that, because it is not his intention to die anytime soon. Not after Tobirama-sensei has sacrificed his life for them.

“I’m not trying to lecture you just for the heck of it, Hiruzen.” Torifu says. “I’m only reminding you that you have to be careful – “

“I know tha – “

“Because you’re Hokage now.” Torifu gives him a look. It is sharp and uncharacteristic for the boy, especially when one is aware of how gentle he is. Of how his laugh is akin to the warm morning light as the sun begins to rise over the indigo horizon. The joy of the Escort Unit. The _saint_. “You can’t die, Hiruzen. I’m not saying the entire village now rests solely on your shoulders, because we’re still here to help you. Always, I swear. But we’ve no one to help if you fall from your carelessness. So for the sake of all of us – _rest_.”

Hiruzen licks his bottom lip at that as he stares thoughtfully at Torifu. He feels the relief of knowing his teammates have no intention of leaving him, but is also overwhelmed with the reality that he is now the leader of a village at war.

(He builds a wooden flooring in his head to keep himself from falling into the void and desperately hopes it’s enough).

“So,” Hiruzen says. “What about you? What happened to you after…”

Torifu merely shrugs. He offers a sheepish smile and _by the gods_ , Hiruzen wonders how he can smile so brightly when his sensei has just died. When he and his friends had almost met the same fate. When he had killed his way into surviving another day in a war that never seems to end. “My bones weren’t splintered. Just dislocated. The medics fixed me up well enough before a bunch of Nara clan healers paid me a visit. They gave me these little pills, apparently a new type of medicine, to help me regain my body mass.”

“Pills?” Hiruzen raises an eyebrow, curious. He’s aware the Nara clan has been upgrading their research in order to produce more elixirs.

Torifu inclines his head. “It got me back up sooner than expected.”

Hiruzen nibbles at this and says, “I’ll take note of that then.” He files holding a meeting with Shikari Nara at the back of his mind and scans through other people he knows can assist on that department. If they can create something that could help hasten a shinobi’s healing process, then that’s an advantage he can’t brush off. Maybe, they can even produce some sort of power boost…

Torifu looks a little thoughtfully at him for a moment before he glances down at his large hands. Hiruzen follows his gaze and counts the scars drawn over his friend’s palms. He remembers training sessions with shurikens that cut deep enough to open a well of blood. How the boy would cradle his pained teammates as Homura patched them up.

“I went to the Hokage’s office the other day, when I came out of the hospital.” Torifu says. “I wanted to see if… if sensei’s remains had been recovered and if preparations for his funeral were being planned. But…” He stops and frowns at a particular spot on the wooden table. “I didn’t catch Hashirama-sama there, nor was he in his home in the Senju compound. Mito-hime is said to be travelling to Uzushio and won’t be back for a week. I was informed by one of their staff that the Shodaime often comes and goes these days, and is still in the process of searching for sensei’s body in the forest.”

Five seconds of silence and Hiruzen knows Torifu is thinking the same thing that’s running on his own mind.

“It pains me to wonder what Kinkaku might’ve done to him.” Torifu says, enunciating ever word with an unusually low voice. As if he is in the middle of eliciting a growl or a whimper or _both_ from the core of his abdomen. “If he – if that monster desecrated sensei’s corpse so that we wouldn’t be able to mourn for him as he deserves to be.”

Hiruzen’s jaw clenches at the thought. Fury sparks to life inside of his chest, like a fire dragon clawing its way out of him. Exhaling in anger, he glares at his empty ramen bowl and tries to keep himself from grabbing it by the edge and throwing at across the stall. “We’re going to kill him.” He says.

Torifu nods, and Hiruzen hates himself for feeling wretchedly excited that the boy feels the same way. That he is just as hateful and enraged. “We will.” The Akimichi says with certainty. “Once all of us have recovered, we will find him and we will kill him.”

It is odd to think that they’ve once been children. That, not long ago, they’ve been such small things shrieking with laughter as they swam in the sparkling rivers. How Hiruzen knows a younger version of Torifu that could never stomach hurting anyone in the slightest. But the boy has crushed too many skulls and swung his bō too many times to ever be labelled the saintly one again. Because now he is discussing revenge with his Sandaime Hokage over a bowl of ramen, and he still manages to grin at the cook as he enthusiastically says, “Another round please!”

Hiruzen politely declines when asked if he would like one more order himself.

* * *

The two of them take a short stroll across the half abandoned streets of the village when they finally stop in front of a specific compound. Hiruzen and Torifu look up at the partially opened gates and tilt their heads to the side. The wooden placard hanging above the entrance is etched with bold letters:

CIVILIAN COMPOUND

Hiruzen presses his lips together into a thin line, a sense of distaste wrapping around his tongue. He shares a glance with Torifu who seems just as uncomfortable with the thought that even after fourteen years since Konoha was built, there is still a thick line separating shinobis from civilians. Where the former enjoys more privileges and are given a certain amount of respect (not to mention lands for their clans to thrive in), the latter is still having a hard time joining society and are often forced to be lumped up into one place.

“You’re going to have a lot to think about as Hokage, Hiruzen.” Torifu comments and Hiruzen understands all the subjects hidden beneath that single statement. “A lot.”

“I know.” Hiruzen sighs. He swings the straw basket he’d picked up from a shop on their way here, testing its weight. The glass bottles inside of it clang against each other, the sound ringing into the night with surprising loudness, and someone from a nearby house shushes them. “Sorry.” He calls out.

“I guess that’s what we’re here for. I mean, I’m not really good with politics. But, Koharu and Homura, though.” Torifu puts a finger on his chin.

“Sometimes I wonder why sensei didn’t choose either of them for Hokage.” Hiruzen says. “Or even Danzou.”

Torifu looks at him with an unreadable expression at that, something he doesn’t quite get. But before he can ask about it, the boy raises a dismissive hand. “Well, I’ll be heading home now. Mom and Dad are going to be furious once they figure out I’m not in my room.”

Hiruzen gives him a look. “They don’t know you went out?”

“You’re not the only who’s capable of crawling out the back door.”

Hiruzen scoffs. “Then, I suppose you had no right to scold me for – “

“Goodnight, Hiruzen.” Torifu chimes as he turns away, hands buried inside his pockets.

Hiruzen sticks out his tongue even though his friend couldn’t see it and waits until Torifu has disappeared into the next street before facing the gates once more.

He stands there for what feels like an eternity, basking in the evening glow. He looks at the moon and recognizes Tobirama-sensei's hair in the way it illuminates the village with a soft white glow. It is hard not to feel pressured with the duties that await him as Hokage and he thinks, he is too young for this. That he has been appointed to take the position with death itself as his signal. He wonders if he's ready, if he ever _will_ -

And he senses the tremendous longing for his dead master as he puts a hand on his chest, making a clawing motion that threatens to rip apart cloth and bandage and _skin_.

Hiruzen breathes in once - a loud gasp that echoes into the shadows, almost as if something had startled him - and struggles to pull himself together. He can't break apart now, not when they are at war. Not when he can hear children laughing in the comfort of their homes, asking for stories from their mothers and fathers.

He wonders if things would have gone differently if he had been the decoy that night, giving the great Nidaime more time to lead the village to safety and stability.

But he knows it is wishful thinking. He never had a choice in the matter, not when it comes to Tobirama-sensei's orders.

Stating otherwise would be a lie.


	4. He walks (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo here's the updated chapter from Hiruzen's POV. I just realized after finishing this that Hiruzen had a pretty long walk, spanning two chapters and all, and if i were in his place, meeting up with my teammates in a single night after escaping from the hospital is a lot to take in lololol. 
> 
> Anyway, had a pretty hard time writing this one since i've never really viewed Homura and Koharu as these emotional beings. Had to settle my mind into the setting first and think of them as teenagers in a young Konoha in the middle of the First Shinobi War. Hope you all like the read, tho!! Feel free to leave comments by the end!
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for depictions of unhealthy vices and death symbolism

**_Four_ **

The inside of the civilian compound is more akin to a miniature version of the village rather than a distinct part of it. Its residences are doll houses, almost mismatched in size depending on the economic standing of each family who lives in it. Hiruzen finds what he’s looking for with ease; just a few blocks away from the entrance – a two story middle class home with strong wooden walls and a flat roof. It’s not a surprise when he’d basically walked these streets ever since he was a kid. And if he cranes his neck far enough, he can see the garlands of greenery growing at the top.

Peering through the windows, he sees that the lights are still open and walks over to knock on the door. When it opens, he’s met with the sleepy face of a woman with dark brown hair and sharp cheekbones. Her resemblance to his friend is uncanny. Except for, he guesses, the lack of spectacles resting on the bridge of Homura’s nose. The poor eyesight, he recalls, is something the boy inherited from his late father.

“Hiruzen.” She greets him with sweet surprise, obviously not expecting for him to be here at this hour. Or to be walking outside, for that matter. “I thought you were still resting. I just dropped by the other day to hand over some herbs to Biwako and she told me you wouldn’t be discharged until next month.”

Hiruzen’s eyebrow twitches at that. A month? Biwako had been planning to keep him in the hospital for another _month_? Unacceptable.

“I suppose she changed her mind, since I’m recovering much faster than she expected. I just got out of the hospital this morning.” He lies through his teeth, hoping Homura’s mother buys it. The woman’s eyes scan the bandages wrapped around his limbs and he speaks before she can ask about them. “I’m sorry for coming in so late, Hina-san. I thought of paying a visit to check on Homura.”

She blinks, before replying. “Of course. You know that’s not a problem. I was actually starting to worry that he might be getting lonely, since he hadn’t seen any of you since coming home last week.” She says, and Hiruzen tries not to show his surprise at this information.

“Not even Koharu?” Hiruzen asks.

Homura’s mother shrugs and shakes her head. “I haven’t heard from that girl since...” She trails off and Hiruzen tries to fight off the spike of fear in his chest. “I mean her mother doesn’t even talk about her.”

That’s something he would have to investigate later.

“He’s up at the roof top.” She lets him in and he politely kicks off his sandals outside the door.

Hiruzen thanks her as he reaches the opening leading up to the highest floor. He spots the dozen or so baskets of herbs and flowers and hanging leaves before he even steps foot on the house top garden. The smell of fresh white blossoms hits his senses as the breeze passes by and for the first time since leaping out of the hospital, he feels himself shiver from the cold. He supposes it’s already ten in the evening.

He bites down the fond memories of Tobirama-sensei scolding him to get to bed on a fixed schedule – _a shinobi who does not value sleep is a shinobi who does not value progress_ – as he stands at the side, looking at Homura. The boy, in turn, is staring at the plants in front of him as if sheer will can make them grow any faster (or wilt, because Hiruzen isn’t sure what his friend wants anymore). The humble Mitokado household practically has a forest growing up here. It had always been a passion of their ancestors to care for plant life. An honorable tradition passed down from father to son.

The Mitokados may be civilians, but they are capable healers. Hiruzen found that out when they were eight and on their first mission. He’d been stabbed on the shoulder by a poisoned shuriken, which caused an unbearably painful itch to travel up his arm. Homura had frantically munched on a bunch of leaves he found by the tree roots before pressing them against Hiruzen’s wound, relieving him of the toxin with such ease it had made him stare at his meek, bespectacled friend with pure astonishment.

It is hard to reconcile the Homura that had once been so shy to the Homura who is, at the moment, smoking into the night.

He’s holding a two inch long cigarette, the end burning with a soft and subtle ember. He takes a single drag, slow and with contemplative silence, before blowing out a string of gray clouds, which fly straight towards the stars. Hiruzen doesn’t fail to notice how his thin arms shake from the chill, causing him to tuck his chin deeper into the scarf wrapped loosely around his neck.

“Behind you.” Hiruzen says with as much gentleness as he can. He puts a careful palm on the back of Homura’s neck and charges it, tenderly, with chakra to warm his best friend up. It elicits a sigh from Homura that sends a shiver down Hiruzen’s spine. “You cold?”

“Was.” Homura looks at him from beneath a half-lidded gaze. Hiruzen doesn’t miss the details of exhaustion on his face, how the bags under his eyes have become pronounced. His cheeks deflated, the muscles on his neck tense from trying to bear the temperature. He knows the boy had been drained. That he’d passed out from chakra loss and had to be forcibly rejuvenated just so he could be strong enough to survive at _least_ his injuries. “Still am, a little.”

Hiruzen increases the chakra ever so slightly and Homura closes his eyes. “Better?”

“Mm.” Homura nods. When he glances down at the basket on Hiruzen’s hand, he smiles with a mixture of fondness and gloom. “I’m not allowed to drink.”

“But you can smoke?” Hiruzen gives Homura an unconvinced stare.

Homura smirks at that. “Nasty habit.” He says, flicking the ash on the ground and taking another drag. Instead of exhaling the smoke, he opens his mouth this time to allow it to trail out in curling tendrils. “The world can’t expect me to let go of it so easily. Not in the middle of… all this.” He waves his hand, his eyes landing on the garden.

Hiruzen slowly removes his palm from Homura’s nape, who sucks in a small breath at the loss of warmth. “How are your herbs?” He asks, following his friend’s gaze. He takes in every minute detail of twisted vines and purple leaves. Bright orchids clinging to wooden grids and blossoming in the middle of springtime Konoha.

Homura shrugs and discards the cigarette on the ground, crushing it neatly with the heel of his sandal. “They’re well. Mama took care of them while I was out.” He answers. “I still don’t quite feel like myself.”

“I don’t imagine you to be.” Hiruzen says. Though truly, do any of them expect to feel the same after what happened? He doesn’t ask Homura this.

“And do you? Feel like yourself?” Homura asks, throwing Hiruzen a knowing look.

Hiruzen sighs and takes a languid step back. He feels the wind on his face, sending a shock of cold that threatens to raise the hairs on his arms. “Yes?” He says, lifting one shoulder. And then, “No. I’m not sure.” He laughs once, stops, and looks at Homura with a worried expression. “I’m Hokage now. I suppose I shouldn’t be making such vague statements, should I?”

Homura merely regards him with a characteristic calmness before shrugging his small shoulders. “Don’t ask me. I know nothing about being Hokage. There’s a reason I was never an option.”

“Don’t say that.” Hiruzen snorts, brows furrowing. “All of us were options.” He says, noting (and ignoring) how his confidence falters at the end of that statement. He feels himself flush from the betrayal. As if he should be compensating for something, mainly because he and the rest of the team know about the rumors. People talk. They say that he’d been handpicked by the Senju brothers as a child in order to be groomed for the seat of Hokage. That his future had been planned out from the start.

Hiruzen tries not to think about that now. He doesn’t want to accept it, doesn’t know _how_. Because even though it’s easy to say that sometimes, yes, Tobirama-sensei did have his favorites, surely he wouldn’t apply that fondness for the position of Hokage right?

Homura looks down on the ground at that, the tip of his foot pressing against his discarded cigarette. He spreads the soot and smudges it in a straight line, prompting Hiruzen to realize that something is troubling him. “Is… something wrong?” He asks.

“I’m being pulled out, Hiruzen.” Homura says, his voice just above a whisper. He neither sounds sad nor relieved. He merely appears… resigned.

Still, Hiruzen takes a step forward. And then another. “What?”

“My chakra lines have been damaged. Not permanently, but… it’s going to be a long time before I’m fit for battle again.” Homura says. “However, during the discussion with the war council, they’ve decided it may be best to permanently excuse me from the field.”

“I don’t understand.” Hiruzen scoffs out. “You’ll heal. You’ll _heal_ , Homura. So if that’s the case, then we can just wait until then. Why do you need to be pulled out?” He asks, incredulous. “I’ll fix this. I’m Sandaime now so they can’t sign shit without me.”

“Except they already have.” Homura says. Hiruzen gives him a wide eyed stare and he smiles without mirth. “The Shodaime Hokage signed it.”

Hiruzen’s face pinches into something that clearly conveys his frustration. He had been in that hospital for too long. Only the gods know what else had happened while he was shut in. “I… Homura – “

“Don’t you get it, Hiruzen?” Homura cuts him off. “I’m no longer needed as a shinobi. My sole purpose was bound to the Escort Unit. But now we’re disbanded.”

“We’re not disbanded!”

“Except we are!” Homura laughs, bitter and low and utterly heartbroken. “Sensei is dead, Hiruzen. He’s gone so there’s no reason for me to pursue the shinobi life anymore.”

“Yes, there is.” Hiruzen reasons, almost whining in the process. “Stay as a shinobi for me, Homura. I – I can’t do this alone and I’m going to be the Sandaime Hokage and – “

“And you’ll have lots of people more qualified to help you than me.”

“That’s not true.” Hiruzen shakes his head. “I don’t want them. I want you and the others.”

“What you want matters little in comparison to the needs of the village. People are dying. People will die. We are at _war_. Don’t you remember what Tobirama-sensei used to tell us, all those years ago?” Homura says, disappointment and reprimand suddenly making its way into his tone. Hiruzen knows he realizes this immediately after the words have slipped through his lips, because then Homura makes an act of shutting his mouth tight and looking away.

Hiruzen pretends not to be hurt, but he lets the shame wash over him all the same. Homura is right. He was raised to be better than this, to know when to put aside his comforts for the betterment of his surroundings. “I do.” He responds. “I’ve been remembering a lot more of him these days than I ever have.”

Homura raises his head up at that and looks towards the dark blue sky. “Me too.” He inhales through his nose before physically sagging, dragging his entire body with him in that single act of relaxing himself. Hiruzen knows there’s something more to this than what his friend is saying, that there are a hundred things bothering the boy right now. And he wants to hear every bit of it.

(Hiruzen thinks, it is second nature for him to protect his team and third to keep a particularly close eye on Homura, mainly because he had always been the one who needed it the most.)

“I think… the only reason why they even let me in the ninja academy was because they saw a civilian boy who could mold chakra and decided that admitting him would shut down any accusations of inequality amongst Konoha’s citizens.” Homura says. “You can ask Koharu what she thinks of that, as my civilian girl counterpart, and I assure you she feels the same. It is only a good thing that at least one of us became a renowned kunoichi.”

“You are a jounin.” Hiruzen responds “Tobirama-sensei’s best sensor. And our healer.”

“Yet that changes nothing of my lineage.” Homura tells him. He fishes out another cigarette from his coat pocket and lights it up, the smoke whipping away from his face as it disappears behind him. “I’m stuck Hiruzen. Don’t misunderstand. I hate this war and I’m tired of fighting it, but I don’t know who I am outside of being a shinobi. And I wish, oh so selfishly, that sensei was here to tell me what to do.”

“So do I.” Hiruzen breathes out. Aren’t they all lost? Wishing their teacher is still alive to reassure them that their fears are unfounded and that everything has a rational solution.

Homura blinks rapidly, tucking away the tears that are probably trying to break through his façade. “Some nights, I regret not being that decoy, because between me and Tobirama-sensei, we all know who the useless one is.”

Hiruzen puts a hand on his arm, but his friend gently shakes him off. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

Homura says nothing, and it hurts more than a thousand insults.

Hiruzen sniffs, feeling himself choke just a little bit from the cigarette smoke and the wind and the fact that he may be allergic to one of these stupid garden plants swaying beside them. He asks, because he has to. “What can I do?”

Homura looks at him with what seems to be pity, as if he’s sorry that he’s putting Hiruzen in such a position. “I’ll figure myself out.” He says. “But can you promise me one thing?”

Hiruzen almost says it. Almost tells him, _anything for you. I will turn the world upside down, left and right, just to make you happy._ But he pushes back this pressing need to just love Homura and replies, “What is it?”

The smile Homura gives is bittersweet. He looks at his garden, which has suddenly turned dull to Hiruzen’s eyes. “Kill Kinkaku. And then, bring me back his ribcage so I can grow bluebells on it.”

Hiruzen knows he should be disgusted by the idea. That it is sick and unnatural and so very, very wrong. But all he feels is an understanding, something that can only be between them. As if this odd request is completely acceptable after everything the enemy has taken from their team.

“I promise.” He says and Homura regards him with a look. He takes a drag, but doesn’t utter a word of thanks.

* * *

Midnight arrives like a resting traveller. It dons its dark blue cloak as it lies down upon the sky and sleeps until lady dawn rises from across the horizon. And although Hiruzen does not regret leaving the confines of his room, he begins to feel the physical and emotional implications of what was supposed to be simple visits finally drain him.

(But, who was he kidding? The visits were never meant to be simple. Not when the entire team hasn’t healed. Not when they haven’t seen Tobirama-sensei’s body, even after a month of being trapped on their own. How, he thinks, will they ever take the first step to putting themselves back together if they have not seen what has been left of their beloved master? What if they never?)

Hiruzen stops to take a breath and closes his eyes. A _fuckload_ of effort is what he will need to process everything said to him tonight. But, he refuses to go through this without at _least_ a moderate amount of alcohol in his system.

It is at that moment when he finally finds what he’s looking for. Or, more accurately, she is the one who finds him.

“Is my Lord Hokage lost?” Koharu’s voice drifts from somewhere behind Hiruzen and _oh my_ , if honey were the color of pastel purple, subtle in its ambition and just a little sweet, then he supposes that is what she sounds like. When he turns back, a flirtatious remark hanging on his tongue, she fakes a haughty tip of her chin. “Oh. _Never mind_. I didn’t think you looked like a monkey.”

Hiruzen bites his bottom lip, a dangerous smile growing at the corners, as he flips up a middle finger at her. She snorts in response, and he wonders how on _earth_ is she able to make such a sound yet manage to still appear so regal?

“Hey, you’d be lucky to have this.” He tells her as he stops in front of the wooden gate dividing the street from her apartment. He looks up at it and notes how… shabby it is. Although, he supposes his dislike for it is because he’d never lived anywhere outside of the Sarutobi compound for longer than necessary. And, well, anyone who has ever been there would note how the clan members value space. “I was actually on my way to your house.”

Koharu merely hums at that. “This _is_ my house, Hiruzen.” She says, her half-lidded gaze betraying nothing. Reaching over to open the gate, Hiruzen doesn’t fail to notice the bandages peaking from beneath her elbow sleeves, the cream colored wrappings extending up towards just below her clavicle.

Hiruzen waits for her to explain. He doesn’t pry, though, when she does not. Instead, he raises his basket and says, “Would you like to share a drink?”

“With the Sandaime Hokage?” Koharu responds, gently flipping a loose braid over her shoulder. “What honor.” She says, tone dry.

Hiruzen’s eye twitches, and he’s not sure if he should take the title as an insult or not. He should start getting used to it by now, but if Koharu continues using _Sandaime-sama_ or _Lord Hokage_ differently (and with the occasional variety in tone), he’s scared he may associate them with a whole new meaning entirely.

The inside of Koharu’s apartment is much smaller than he expected, but it’s enough for someone who lives alone. The fact that she’s neat means that her living quarters aren’t prone to being cramped with unnecessary objects and furniture. She grabs two delicate cups from the cupboard as Hiruzen sits on the floor, right beside the short table settled in the middle of the room. Her single bed rests merely a few feet from it, with a desk and a closet situated on its adjacent wall. “When did you move in?” He asks her.

“I was already packed before…” Koharu trails off, the back of her blouse stretching as she wipes the cups clean. “Before the mission with sensei.”

“Oh.” Hiruzen says. He tries to find the right words, before feeling himself give in to both concern and curiosity. “I had thought you would be staying with your mother during your recovery.” It’s strange how he can go from the subject of worry to the worrier in a span of a few steps down the civilian’s streets, and more so that it is Koharu that he’s worried about.

When Koharu walks towards the table, she doesn’t meet his gaze. She merely lowers herself on the ground with shaky legs before succeeding, huffing an exhale. She gives him a polite smile as she moves his cup towards him. “Mother wants nothing to do with me, unless I have agreed to bend to her desires.”

“Which are?” Hiruzen asks, though he’s sure he already knows what she means. It had been a problem ever since they were children.

“Retiring.” She answers as she takes the bottle of sake from the basket beside Hiruzen and popping it open. She pours an amount for the both of them. “And marrying.”

Hiruzen’s eyebrows furrow at that. Koharu, despite being born a civilian and a woman, has earned her place among the shinobi ranks. (Though there’s a part of him that questions why these two factors should be an issue at all.) It sends him reeling in the slightest of ways to know that the foundations of the village’s prejudices, based not only on the social standing and sex of a person but also of their economic status and clan politics, are rooted in places that are dangerously deep. Dismantling them is a must, but it cannot be done without the cooperation of the entire Konoha populace.

“I will not allow her to force you.” Hiruzen says, thinking it his responsibility to stand by one of his best friends, but something in the way Koharu looks at him tells him he need not think of her as someone who is desperate for protection.

“I appreciate it, Hiruzen. Though regardless of your input, I don’t think it will change my family’s perception of what a young civilian woman must be.” Koharu says, not unkindly or with dismissal. “But I must admit, I’m getting rather tired of it.”

Hiruzen grabs his cup. “I can only imagine.” Tilting his head to a comfortable angle, he takes the first sip. Koharu follows not long after, as it is customary for them to wait for either the eldest or the person of higher rank to eat before everyone else. And in this case, the Sarutobi is both.

Exhaling, Koharu says, “You went to see the others.” It is a statement rather than a question and Hiruzen raises a questioning brow at her, wondering how she knew. (Though, he is not the least bit shocked. Koharu had always been, in the words of their sensei, the conniving one. It only makes sense for her to be sharp.) “This kind of sake can only be bought in that shop next to Torifu’s favorite ramen stall. Plus, you smell of smoke, and there’s only one person in the team who has that vice.”

Hiruzen keeps himself from saying that that isn’t exactly true. He’d once caught Kagami and Danzou sharing a pipe outside the Shimura clan’s main household, and he wonders what other needs and urges his friends have that he doesn’t know about. “You scare me sometimes, you know.” He smiles half-heartedly at Koharu as she takes another sip.

“I have to keep my mind in order, especially if I am to be a part of your council.” She tells him. And then, fingers fiddling with the surface of her cup, she glances at him with what could only be a sudden surge of doubt in her features. “That is, if you will have me – “

“Yes.” Hiruzen says. “Yes. Of course, I will.” He tenderly drinks, clears his throat, and continues with a grumble. “At least one of my teammates will be by my side.”

For a moment, Koharu remains quiet. This gives Hiruzen the clear and frightening impression that she’s aware of the fact that Homura has been pulled out by the war council. He waits for her to speak, feeling the waves of anticipation beginning to course through her chakra reserves. When she finally responds, she hesitantly tells him, “When we were children… Homura and I were the first and only civilians to be accepted in the academy. Graduating years earlier than most came as a surprise, much more when we were placed in a team with the heir to the Sarutobi clan himself.” She smiles a small smile at him, gentle in a way that is knowing and reminiscent and just a tad bit painful.

Hiruzen lets her drink up, the slender curve of her neck becoming pronounced, and she breathes through her nose. “And then, Tobirama-sensei took us all under his wing. Despite mine and Homura’s supposed inferior bloodline – “

“It’s not.” Hiruzen mutters.

“Despite me being born a woman.” Koharu continues. “He took care of us. Trained us. Loved us. Sometimes, he loved you more than the rest of us, but that didn’t matter. Not to me.” She takes a shiver of an inhale. “Whatever his love may have been, just grasping it was enough for me.”

_Me too_. Hiruzen thinks, feeling the all too familiar clench of grief tighten around the muscles and soul jampacked inside his chest.

“But, that didn’t mean Homura and I were safe, you know.” Koharu finishes the first bottle of sake into both of their glasses and the two of them take their respective sips together. Slowly placing their cups back down, Hiruzen wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and lets the heat of the drink sear its way down his aching throat. “The war council was always finding ways to have us both killed in battle. May it be by putting us in the front lines or trying to send us off into missions. A lot of noble clans wanted to put their children in our place, after all, beside the Nidaime himself. But Tobirama-sensei protected us to the best of his abilities.”

Hiruzen’s hand tightened around his cup and he pressed his lips together into a thin, angry line. They had always known about it – about the ruthlessness of shinobi generals and the favor given to them by noble families. That despite the formations of villages and the changes the generations have undergone, the hierarchy still persists along with the people who would prefer to keep it that way. He looks at Koharu now, alive and breathing and warm just a few inches away from his fingertips and can’t fathom her being gone. Being _dead_ (just like sensei), if the war council had gotten its way. And the protectiveness spills out of him like a pool of rainwater. Like blood on the floor of her apartment in the dimness of a dying candle and a cold, cold night.

“Now that sensei is gone, though…” she trails off, her eyes glossy. She absentmindedly thumbs the cap of the second bottle before finally opening it with a decisive _pop_.

“I won’t let them hurt either of you.” Hiruzen says, anguish and rage suddenly seeping its way into his voice. “Never. I _swear_.”

“I know, Hiruzen. And Homura knows that, too. But – “ Koharu cuts herself off and Hiruzen can see her face twist in thought, as if she is struggling to find the right words. “Things are different now. You’re not… you’re…”

_You’re not Tobirama Senju_. Hiruzen hears it even without the words and he feels like he’d been shot by an arrow. “Are you saying I can’t protect you?”

“I’m saying that Konoha is filled with snakes who will not shed and wolves in sheep’s skin.” Koharu tells him. Hiruzen grabs the bottle of sake from her hands and pours himself a shot. He drinks up, hoping it would wash down his wounded pride and persisting sadness. “In the face of such instability, it’s better if Homura takes a step back from the battlefield.”

Hiruzen pours sake into her glass and doesn’t meet her eyes. “And you?”

Koharu merely shrugs a shoulder. “I can handle myself.” She mumbles.

For a moment, the two of them remain silent. Hiruzen tries to smooth down the irrationality of feeling hurt from this entire exchange. He should understand where both Koharu and Homura are coming from, being thrown into the whirlwind politics of shinobi nobles. But there’s a huge part of him that’s desperate and insistent on chaining them to him. All of them, even Danzou, Torifu, and Kagami.

(In a way, Hiruzen knows he’d always been rather possessive. _His_ team. _His_ friends. _His_ family. _His, his, his_. That’s what, surprisingly, Hashirama-sama had trained him for. Because if Tobirama-sensei taught him to love and protect, the Shodaime drilled into his mind the overbearing idea that a leader _keeps_.

Hiruzen is just beginning to wonder how much of that thought has gotten out of hand when it comes to how he views the others.)

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Hiruzen.” Koharu suddenly says and Hiruzen shakes his head with a sigh.

“You didn’t.” Hiruzen tells her, flipping his right hand over and wordlessly encouraging her to take it. She puts her small one on top of his and he curls his fingers over hers. “You could never upset me.”

Koharu’s smile is strained and Hiruzen waits for her to say something. “There’s one more thing.”

_Oh gods, what is it?_ His adam’s apple bobs in a surge of anxiety, but he remains quiet.

“I went to see Kagami when I got discharged. Well, I _tried_ , that is.” She tells him. “Since he was the first to come out of the hospital, I’d thought that maybe he’d be the most updated out of all of us. But when I got to the Uchiha clan compound… I was stopped.”

“Stopped?” Hiruzen narrows his eyes, brows furrowing.

“By Izuna.” Koharu’s tone goes deep and dark, the way it always does when something has dragged out her suspicion. “He told me that Kagami is still healing and that no one outside of the Uchiha clan is allowed to come near him until he’s fully recovered.”

Hiruzen frowns. “It’s been more than a month.” He says.

“And according to Biwako during the time that _I_ left the hospital, Kagami should already be walking about. Unless he got into another accident prior to that. But if he did, then surely she or Izuna would have mentioned it.” A tiny sip. “They didn’t.”

Hiruzen swallows hard at that. “Perhaps, Izuna is merely looking out for Kagami. He is, after all, his nephew.” He tries for a rational explanation as he sips at his sake tentatively. The sweetness hits his tongue and he feels the warmth spread through him.

Koharu shakes her head. “I don’t know, Hiruzen. I’m aware I’m not as good a sensor as either you or Homura. But from my scope, I couldn’t sense Kagami’s chakra signature.”

Hiruzen stops. “What do you mean?” He asks, feeling a little dumb. He knows _exactly_ what she means and it activates a number of alarm bells at the back of his mind.

Koharu leans over. “I mean, I think Kagami isn’t in the Uchiha clan compound. And if he’s not there, then I don’t know _where_ he is.”

In the muddled surface of Hiruzen’s drunk, foggy, and unhappy mind, he can’t imagine Kagami going anywhere but his house at a time like this. Judging from Koharu’s story, it’s uncharacteristic of the Uchiha to be away from the familiarity of his environment when he’s hurt (he’d always been the rooted one) and Hiruzen can’t see a reason for Koharu to tell him any of this if she doesn’t think it’s serious.

“Are you certain?” Hiruzen asks, his words growing vaguer with each shot they take.

“Of my observations, yes. Of the conclusion, no. That’s where you come in.” She gestures to him with her cup. “You need to talk to Kagami.”

“What, you want me to _break in_ to Uchiha territory?”

“I can’t try twice, Hiruzen. Izuna would most likely be keeping an eye out for me. But even if they catch you, what would they do? Antagonize the Third Hokage?”

Hiruzen’s aware that if he were more sober, he’d have a much better response to this. However, all he’s able to do is rub his face with a languid hand and exhale in thought. He knows he won’t be able to fight off his own worries in the morning. And besides, he’d planned on meeting Kagami as well anyway. What’s the harm in climbing up the tree next to the Uchiha’s bedroom window, pick the lock, and step foot inside? It’s not like he hasn’t done that before.

He knows that Koharu knows she’d managed to convince him of the possibility that this isn’t something to take lightly. They’ve all been raised in an era which still holds a few amounts of distrust against the Uchiha clan, and although Hiruzen trusts Kagami with his damn life, maybe, just maybe, there is a sinister aura to the rest of his significantly older clan members that Hiruzen can’t deny feeling wary of.

He doesn’t say this out loud, though. He doesn’t usually need to.

* * *

Hiruzen and Koharu are both tipsy drunk by the time the clock strikes two. Neither bother cleaning up the cups or the bottles as the cold wind rushes from the half opened window.

Hiruzen stays. The two of them curl up in Koharu’s single bed, almost on top of each other, and unflinching in the face of such open affection. “I miss him.” She whispers, her voice delicate and broken against his neck. He pulls her closer and she says, “I miss him so much. Every day, every moment.”

He wonders if Tobirama-sensei is watching all of them right now – wonders if he misses his students and his brother and his village with just as much passion. Hiruzen doesn’t know what it’s like to be a soul. Sasuke Sarutobi had died, long ago, from summoning the Shinigami in battle and sacrificing his life so that his comrades could escape. The only ones who’d been able to return to Konoha speak of how his spirit had been extracted and sealed into the belly of the God of Death – how it had absolutely no resemblance to Hiruzen’s father. A mere silhouette of blue and black and gray. Unmoving and lifeless.

A powerful fear grips Hiruzen by the throat at that moment as his mind wraps around the thought of his father and mother and Tobirama-sensei becoming one with the void. Nothing more than forgotten things of the past. Shadows and darkness framing his vision in the cramped room, and he almost breaks down sobbing.

But then, Koharu shifts in her half-sleep. She moves, with slight consciousness, to settle herself a little higher than Hiruzen and gathers him into her arms. Her fingers rake through the hair at the back of his head and he shuts his eyes. She smells like sake and sweat and the salted tears of grief.

His heart rate slows down and he drifts off to sleep not long after.

* * *

Hiruzen finds himself staring at Kagami’s house from a treetop a few distances away. The morning is young, but the sunlight is already casting painful glares against his eyes, accentuating the throbbing headache of what he’d expected to be a mild hangover. He waits, for a moment, for the Uchiha woman filling a basin of water to finish her work and go on her way before he climbs down to sneak up the back walls.

Concealing his chakra from any lingering shinobi is easy enough. He’d been taught by the best sensor in the world, after all, but his heart still stops whenever he feels the slight tap of footsteps brushing against the grass. Ninjutsu reserves flashing by him for a second before disappearing in some corner within the compound.

He chooses his opportunities carefully, opting to climb across the bricks hidden in the shadows of nearby trees. He lands soundlessly inside the Uchiha territory, rolling softly against the ground before stopping on the balls of his feet, and looks up at Kagami’s house. It’s a mercy the boy’s residence is located near the edges, the elders having thought it wise to place the stronger members near the outskirts in case they’re needed to defend the area from attackers.

Hiruzen begins his ascent through roof tiles and small ledges with the patience of a young man who’d just woken up half an hour ago, slightly shit faced and not fully healed. He tries not to yelp when a movement catches at his rib, prompting a shot of pain to course through his torso. Thankfully, Kagami’s window is only a few feet away. He jumps the rest of the distance and reaches the glass with a silent huff.

He’s surprised to find it unlocked. Opening it as gently as he can, he steps inside the empty room and cautiously widens the range of his sensing ability. The fact that Kagami is not in his bed right now is already telling of something suspicious. Hiruzen swallows and glances over at the adjoining room where the Uchiha’s parents had once slept in. Taking a deep breath, he walks over to it and puts a hand on the sliding door. “Kagami?” He calls out.

He gets an answer, but not the one he’d been expecting.

“What are _you_ doing here, brat?”

Hiruzen turns around to see the source of the voice.

Madara Uchiha is seated on a chair at the corner of the room, arms crossed over his chest and legs spread apart. If looks could kill, Hiruzen would definitely be dead by now because the clan head is staring at him with the blackest pair of eyes he’d ever seen. The Sarutobi didn’t even _sense_ him there.

When Madara stands, Hiruzen is reminded how fucking tall the man is. Although he’s not as towering as the First Hokage, the sharpness of his features and the volume of his wild untamed hair adds up to his intimidating appearance. Hiruzen’s _sure_ he’s doing it on purpose, never mind if he’s already the most powerfully monstrous Uchiha who’s ever lived.

“I asked you a question, _little Third_.” Madara says, closing in on him. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

Hiruzen manages a mere swallow at that.

Against the gush of violent chakra, a razing scarlet amidst the peaceful day, Hiruzen feels himself sweat under the intense gaze of Madara Uchiha.

He barely lets out a squeak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Id like to think that Homura and Koharu had their own unique talent as young shinobi, especially with how few civilian clan characters there are in Naruto. Although I'm still trying to figure out the extent of these two's abilities, im planning on writing more about it in the succeeding chapters.
> 
> Next chapter will function in one of the Founders' pov!!
> 
> tell me what you think!! Comments and/or kudos are appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!


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